Promises, Promises
by Becca2793
Summary: Not everything is as it seems for Kanda Yu, established hard-ass. Perhaps there are a few more layers to the Japanese man than previously thought. Sequel to Risky Business.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_Late July of the previous year_

He slams his phone down on the countertop and does his best to quell the sudden emotions in him. He can vaguely recognize some – anger, confusion, even slight surprise. It's when something almost like fear hits him that he realizes something's off.

He shouldn't be afraid – there's nothing to be afraid of. If fucking ghosts want to come back and haunt him, by all means; something like that isn't going to shake him. But.

Alive?

Alive.

Alma motherfucking Karma is alive.

He's _supposed_ to be dead. So why is Kanda getting phone calls from across the Pacific? He and Bak Chan haven't spoken in years, and it's not like him to joke about something so fucking unfunny.

And perhaps it wouldn't even be that big of a deal if it hadn't been Kanda who'd –

It wasn't even on purpose.

The fucking idiot was going around doing stupid shit and a fight had gotten out of hand. Kanda overpowered him too easily, even at such a young age, and the kid was put in ICU – when Kanda left Japan, he was still in a coma and to be taken off of life support. The only reason he'd even gotten out of there was because everyone associated with it had protected him, and then Tiedoll came and dragged him from the country, brought him to New Orleans.

So to hear that he's alive. It's almost surreal. He'd been thinking for years Alma was dead – that he'd killed him. And he doesn't know what to feel now.

He has to go there. Not only is Alma asking for him, he…

Fuck everything.

The beansprout is upstairs, sleeping. He can't know about this, it's none of his business. He'd probably just throw a little bitch fit if he knew, anyway. And with all the shit with Daisya going on? This isn't what he wants to be dealing with. They're still trying to work everything out, even though the funeral was close to a month ago.

He punches the countertop.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

* * *

><p><em>Mid-August of the previous year<em>

He doesn't even know how he's going to wait so long. It's not like he's excited, because he's never excited and this shit is nothing to be excited about, but he's…anxious. He just wants to go and get this over with. He just wants to go and leave everything here behind and never have to deal with anything like this again.

Allen is next to him, walking, seeming a bit put-off about something. As if he has the right to be put-off. He almost wants to sneer. Him and his awesome little life with his awesome little friends and his awesome little grades. What does he even know? It makes Kanda so angry to think about it. So angry he can barely stand being next to him right now.

"Kanda?" Allen links their fingers together and Kanda almost flinches and pulls away, but doesn't.

"What?" He looks at the beansprout with furrowed eyebrows. If Allen can read his expression, be damned, because he isn't even sure of what he's feeling. Ugh, feeling. It's so stupid. Ever since he started this fucking relationship, everything about him has changed, and he hates it. He loved being on his own before, not having to deal or worry about anyone else. And now this kid is at the forefront of his mind pretty much…always. He really does hate it.

"Are you alright?" Alright? Oh yes, he's fine. He's totally okay.

This fucking kid doesn't understand a single fucking thing about him.

He tears his hand away and brings it to his chest. "It's nothing," he snarls, and looks away. It _is_ nothing – nothing for Allen to worry about, anyway. None of his business at all.

He hears the sharp intake of breath. "Well obviously something's wrong…" Great deduction skills, Sherlock. Everything about Allen is driving him up the wall tonight. He almost wants to just break it off with him right now. Just walk home alone and not worry about him or his feelings.

But something is stopping him.

And unfortunately he knows the exact reason.

"Obviously, huh?" Kanda sneers.

The beansprout deflates a little, as if he's lost his fight. "What…did I do?" It's an uncharacteristic response, and it only makes Kanda angrier. He didn't start a relationship with a pussy, not some little girl who only cares about her feelings and their relationship. He started this because at one point in time, Allen was a worthy adversary. The kid could hold up his end of the conversation easily. And now he's just skipping around with tear-filled eyes like some school girl.

"What did you do?" Kanda asks, stopping suddenly. A warm breeze rolls through. "Nothing." He grinds out.

"Then why are you so – so angry at me?"

"I'm not angry at you!" And now he's lying.

"Really? Then why the hell are you acting like such an arsehole? Why…?" Even just hearing that stupid fucking accent, the mispronunciation of asshole. It's all making him so much more aggravated than usual. Maybe it's just because of all the shit with Alma. He's stressed, and keeping it to himself isn't helping at all, because maybe if Allen knew, he would leave Kanda the fuck alone.

"Haven't I always been an _arsehole_?" He mocks. Because he's been told that all his life. Especially since Tiedoll died. He has been an asshole, and he doesn't give a shit. He likes being an asshole.

"No, Kanda. No." Allen shakes his head and takes a step forward, while Kanda opts to stay where he is. "You may have always said cruel things, but you've never actually acted cruelly. You treat your friends apprehensively, but you're always there for them. Kanda, even in the beginning you dealt with me. And you didn't even like me. But…you've been all over the place lately. As if you don't know whether to avoid me or ignore me or love me or just fuck me! Kanda, what is going on with you?"

He can't tell him. Not the truth. It's not his business. It's not – it's none of his business. Fuck sharing information. He is his own person. They are not a 'we.' He will never be a 'we' with anybody. "Tch. Just shut up."

"I'm not going to just shut up, Kanda!" Allen exclaims, running fingers through his hair. "Jesus. I saw the goddamned brochure. Are you planning on just leaving and not telling anyone?"

A spark of anger rushes through Kanda. That's his personal life. A life Allen has no right to interfere with. "Going through my mail now?"

"It was just sitting on your island in your kitchen. What in the hell is _wrong_?"

He doesn't reply, because half of him doesn't know how to. And the other half of him doesn't feel he owes Allen the truth. But it's mostly just because he doesn't know how to.

"I'm thinking your boyfriend is just a bit suspicious."

That voice. That voice. He knows that voice.

"Tyki. What…?" Allen starts and turns towards the voice. Tyki. Tyki Mikk. From the NOAH?

"Hello, boys." Mikk waves at them, and in the dull light, he can see him semi-perfectly – dark skin, black tattoos, a small mole beneath his left eye. Allen turns to Kanda and Kanda furrows his eyebrows. He remembers this man. Remembers him from when Tiedoll was… "I'm honored. You remember me?" He is the one that killed Tiedoll.

"The _fuck_ do you want?"

He saw. He cannot ever forget. Or forgive. He may not have loved Tiedoll, he doesn't love anyone, but he respected the man. He even felt he owed him something for protecting his younger self. But Mikk murdered him. And that left Kanda feeling…almost incomplete. He'll never be able to repay Tiedoll for getting him out of Japan so many years ago.

"Well, actually, we were just popping on by to get Allen here." Allen retreats a bit, and five more NOAH step into the light.

"What do you mean?" Allen asks. He continues moving backwards until he hits Kanda. Grabbing his arms to keep them both steady, Kanda holds Allen in place. He's probably hurting the kid with how much pressure he's applying, but he doesn't care much. Allen might be driving him up the wall, but…

And they may not be a 'we,' but…

There is still a…connection.

And Kanda isn't going to allow another connection of his to be cut.

"The boss wants to see you, Allen. He's requested we pick you up and bring you back." He remembers the girl speaking, but her name escapes him.

"What? Why?"

"Questions are unnecessary," a taller woman says. "I suggest you come without a fight if you don't want your pretty little friend there to die."

Kanda pushes Allen to the side and steps forward. "Fuck if he's going with you." If there weren't so many of them here he'd – he'd kill them. He's never really had the urge to completely mangle someone before, but all of them. They should all die. Die horribly and painfully and at his hand.

"Ohhh, protective," says one of the five, a darker haired teen that looks like he can't be too much older than Allen. "Jasdero, think he'll still be that way once he knows the truth?"

"Nope! Nope! Don't think so, Devit."

"What do you mean?" Allen asks. "Won't someone please tell me what the hell's going on?" It's a valid question, Kanda has to agree. He's agitated and confused and he hates those feelings, especially when they're coupled with each other. It sends tingles of pure, unadulterated anger down his spine. What kind of truth are they speaking about?

"It's a shame you don't remember, Allen." The short girl says. "The induction ceremony really is wonderful. The Boss always rents out a magnificent hall."

"What do you mean?" Allen asks, taking a step forward. In a flash, however, Kanda grips his arm, much more harshly than before. Fury blazes through him, at what the NOAH girl is implying. It's stings like betrayal, but it's impossible for him to feel betrayed right now. Impossible for him to feel anything except that anger, that horrid need to understand what they mean – because, if what they're saying is true, how could he be so stupid? So –

"As you said though, Rhode. It was so long ago. It's no wonder he doesn't remember." Mikk nods. "Listen, boy. Just to clear a few things up, our family – we're called the NOAH." He's still holding onto Allen; it seems as if the boys center of gravity has simply disappeared, and that if he let go, he'd just fall into a heap on the ground. "And your uncle was a member of this family."

"It's a shame he died. He was very cool. A beautiful musician."

Kanda's grip loosens and he pulls away as if Allen burned him.

His uncle.

So that would mean…

Because family members of…

"So. So."

"So you're coming back with us," Mikk says, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "Fourteenth."

Kanda directs his attention to the ground. He hears shuffling, senses movements in his peripherals, but doesn't look, or comment on it. If Allen is a NOAH. If he'd always been a NOAH.

Anger flares up worse than before. But it's tinged with something he hasn't felt in so long. Something like agony and maybe-_maybe_ betrayal. But it's not that. He can't place what he's feeling; he just knows it's clawing at his lungs and making him so desperately livid he can't think straight.

"I don't…no! I…I don't care what you say. Neah was good. He never would have been a part of NOAH. And neither am I!" A slight pause for an intake of breath. "Kanda, I promise. I'm not one of them. I'll never be one of them."

He can't think. He can barely register Allen's words. To think that this kid is a part of the group that murdered Tiedoll, then Daisya? To think that he gave himself to a – _ugh_ – relationship that lasted several months, let Allen see sides of him he'd never shown to anyone else; for all of that to be a lie? He can't. He just can't.

"It's too late. You already are," says the taller woman.

"No!" Allen snaps. "Kanda!"

Finally, Kanda looks up at him.

Can Allen see the blankness? He can't think. Not at all. If he thinks, it'll hurt too much. He's encountered this plenty enough times and his only defensive mechanism is to push it away. Combating pain doesn't work the same way as combating another human being.

"Kanda, I promise! I didn't – I'm not!" He can see and hear the tears. "Let me go!"

"Sorry, boy. No can do," Mikk informs him matter-of-factly.

He can't be here. He can't watch the lies. He can't think about it. He just can't.

So he walks away. He only gets about twenty feet away when Allen yells, "Kanda! Kanda don't go! You said you _trusted me_!"

He stops, but doesn't turn around. Because those words are making him think. He himself can feel the emotion on his face. "I did!" He hollers back, because it's true. He did trust Allen. He trusted a lot of himself to Allen after Daisya was killed. All the things that were said that night, he meant them at the time. And to let Allen see him in such a vulnerable state?

He can't take this. Everyone around him is always dying, and maybe it's time for him to grow up. To walk away from death because it's a natural part of life.

So just like Allen murdered Tiedoll and Daisya, he murdered their relationship. Every level of it. He never wants to hear or speak to Allen again.

He continues walking away, until he can't hear Allen screaming anymore. The fake tears, the fake emotion. He doesn't have to deal with that shit. And he's not going to. He's going to keep walking.

But walking – walking is worse. It makes him think. Think that maybe Allen wasn't faking. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he just let the kid get kidnapped by the same people that killed Tiedoll and Daisya. Maybe he just walked away at the wrong time. So if they kill Al-

He stops in the median of the highway. He'd been crossing it and never even realized.

He has to go back. If they kill him like they killed Tiedoll and Daisya, it'll be _his_ fault.

"Allen…"

He shakes his head and starts running back. Maybe he couldn't prevent Tiedoll's death, or Daisya's death, but maybe he can prevent Allen's. Maybe Allen doesn't have to die.

There is the bright light of what he assumes, at the last minute, to be headlights. Then there is the unmistakable and disgusting sound of bone crunching and tires peeling out against the cement.

And then it is darkness.

* * *

><p><em>January 1st<em>

He grips the ticket in his hand so tightly he can feel his nails digging into his palm. He must have fallen asleep in LAX and started having stupid dreams. Fucking airports. He hates them. All the people and all the noise. Big crowds are probably his least favorite thing and airports are full of them. And there's the fact that he had to three already, including LAX, and has to be in another when he gets into Tokyo. Apparently there are little to no flights direct from New Orleans to Los Angeles; he had to fly to Atlanta, Georgia first, which is so out of the way it's fucking ridiculous, then get on a plane to where he is now.

He sighs and stands up, stretching, before checking his cell phone. His layover here is about three hours, and he's slept for two of them. He needs something else to do.

He goes to a Starbucks and gets a macchiato first, so that he doesn't fall asleep again (it's pointless, though, because it's about a thirteen hour flight from Los Angeles to Tokyo – unfortunately, he's probably going to fall asleep) and then heads over to a book store. It's not too big, airport shops never really are, and it doesn't take him long at all to leaf through all the magazines in there. Which leaves him with the novels.

Now, he doesn't generally read a lot, not unless the topic suits his interest, but maybe a novel is what he needs. Something he can read for hours on end and forget about sleep or thinking in general. So he gets three, in case he decides he doesn't like one, and steps up to the register.

It's a woman working there, all smiles and politeness and something about her strikes him. Just, catches him really off guard. And maybe it's her short, platinum blonde hair, or her height, or her gray eyes, but she looks a lot like…

"Is this all?" She asks, sickly sweet.

"Does it look like I have anything else?"

She snorts, then collects herself. Ringing up the items she asks, "So where are you headed?"

"Tokyo."

"That's cool. I've never been, but I hope to one day."

"I'm so fucking happy for you."

"You're a cheerful one, aren't you?" She laughs, stuffing his books in a bag. "Well, my name's Alyssa, and that'll be nineteen fifty-eight."

He lets out a bit of a breath before taking out his wallet and handing her some cash. Maybe he really only should have gotten one. The school is paying for some of this, and Marie helped to (much to his chagrin, he said he could handle it himself; the only problem is that he actually couldn't) but he can't be throwing around money like it's the financial boom of the late eighties. Not that anyone threw money around then, either.

Maybe it's her appearance, coupled with the date, but he almost doesn't want to go sit back down and read these. And her name. But maybe he's just projecting as well.

_This is stupid_, he thinks. _I'm being stupid. _

Shaking his head, he turns around, but as he's walking away he hears the girl call, "You never gave me your name." He pauses, and turns around to face her. "Isn't that common courtesy in Japan? And everywhere really." There's a sardonic edge to her words and damn if her personality isn't similar as well.

"Kanda."

"Just Kanda?"

"For you."

She sighs and rests her head on her hand. "You know, I think you should come back in here and talk to me."

"What? Why?" He doesn't care to do that at all. Not really, anyway. He doesn't like conversation. With anyone. Ever.

Well, he used to. At one point in time he loved having conversations with the kid, because he could keep up. He didn't back down and it made it…interesting. And there's the mystery that this girl might be the same way. And again, maybe he's being an idiot and projecting, but he's fine with that.

"Um, because that plane doesn't leave for another fifty minutes, which means you're going to be stuck sitting down and reading those god-awful books for half an hour before you board." He frowns at her, then his bag, then the sitting area. "Come on, Grinch." He rolls his eyes, but complies, walking back towards her register and leaning against the counter. "So where are you from?"

"New Orleans."

"I love New Orleans. Well, no, I love that movie Princess and the Frog. But it's essentially the same, right?"

"I don't know." He does know. And it's not the same. But the only reason he knows is because of Lenalee. She made him go to the theater with Lavi and her when it came out.

"So, Mr. Tough Guy. What takes you to Japan?"

She asked for his name and then doesn't use it. "None of your fucking business."

"Oh, harsh. But I guess not." She laughs and tucks her white-blonde hair behind her ear.

"Is your hair dyed?" He asks, interest only mildly piqued. He doesn't even know why it comes out, or even that it did until he finishes asking it. Which annoys him. He does that sometimes and hates himself afterwards.

She laughs. "I get that a lot. No, it's natural. My eyes, too."

At least she's not British.

"So what are you drinking there?" She asks him, and he looks at his coffee cup before shrugging.

"Double-shot macchiato."

"If you don't want to fall asleep, why didn't you get a triple?"

"The fuck are you talking about?"

She laughs. "I had a clear shot of you over there, sleeping, then jolting awake with this haunted look on your face before getting up and heading straight to get coffee. Doesn't take a genius."

He sneers at her before taking a sip of his coffee. "It's pointless. It's a twelve to thirteen hour flight. I'll fall asleep at some point."

"Do you get nightmares or something?"

He sends her a look that's somewhere between a glare of apprehension and a raised eyebrow. It ends up being a mix of the two, and she giggles at him. "I don't."

"It's okay to get nightmares. Everyone does."

"They aren't nightmares."

"Well, then why are you so scared of them?"

"I'm not scared of them."

"Right."

"I am _not_ scared of them." He's not scared of his dreams. He just doesn't like reliving some of the worse parts of his year.

"Okay, okay," she concedes, putting up her hands. "I believe you."

A customer comes up to the register and he moves so she can check out. At this point, he takes a moment to really look at Alyssa, and realizes that maybe she doesn't look as much like the kid as he originally thought. She does have insanely light blonde hair, but it's not white like his. And her eyes really are gray, while his were more of a chrome. Her skin tone is off as well. He was extremely pale and she has a rather even, ivory complexion. It makes him angry at himself. He's leaving all of it behind, especially that _beansprout_, so why can't he stop thinking about it? About, fuck – him?

Before him, there was no one he really thought about. Not like this. There would be fleeting thoughts, never about partners, but about other people he knew. Lenalee, or Lavi, or even Marie, Chaoji, Tiedoll, and Daisya, and now…

And it's worse since they kissed. He smiled at the kid, _smiled_. As a general rule, he doesn't smile. Ever. But he kissed the beansprout, then smiled at him. Why in the fuck did he do that? He feels so stupid he almost wants to hit himself in the head, just to see if he can come to his senses, but he doesn't feel that would accomplish anything more than giving him a headache.

"You seem deep in thought, Macho Man." Alyssa leans against her countertop, finished with checking the other woman out, and smirks at him.

He doesn't reply to her at first, waits a moment to collect himself before saying, "Whatever."

"So witty."

He sneers at her and checks his phone. Twenty minutes until he has to board. He doesn't want to have any more of a conversation with this girl, the illusion dispelled, but he really has nothing better to do.

"Are you hungry?" She asks, leaning over the counter and getting a candy bar before holding it out to him.

"No."

"A shame. These are really good." She waves the bar at him. "Really, really good."

"So annoying…"

"Oh, I'm annoying am I?" She snickers. "Well, I was just trying to be nice and share my food with you."

"Right."

"What, do you think I have ulterior motives, Handsome?"

He raises an eyebrow. He's not being vain, but people oftentimes have ulterior motives when talking to him or offering him something. "Why did you ask for my name if you aren't going to use it?"

"As I said before, Hot Stuff, it's just common courtesy."

He rolls his eyes. Maybe she's more like that fucking Lavi. He always tries to use pet name and stupid shit like that. "Whatever."

"You aren't going to contribute to the conversation at all, are you?"

"Just catching on?"

"You are so mean. I'm just trying to be a nice, random citizen by talking to a pretty-boy who has scary dreams."

"My dreams don't scare me!"

She laughs. "So defensive. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Why would I ever want to talk about it? Especially with you. I don't even know you."

"That's why it's perfect. We'll never see each other again, and you don't have to worry about me telling any of your friends or anything like that."

"I'm not talking about my dreams with you." Even if she does have a point, he wouldn't share things like that with anybody. People apparently have issues with getting into places they don't belong; they try to do it to him all the time.

"Your loss. I'm a great listener." She shrugs.

He snorts. Like it's any of her business what he dreams about. Opening his bag, he pulls out one of the books he bought and turns it over to read the back. He probably could have done this before buying it, but he couldn't be bothered to – the front looked fine enough.

He opens it to the first page and begins reading, knowing that anything written by Stephen King is going to at least be interesting. It's not going to be all that romance crap, with muscled men and distressed damsels. That shit makes him want to puke. Who believes in that kind of thing? That the perfect man just comes out of nowhere, is usually a cop or something else in uniform, and knows exactly how to sweep a woman just spurned by her ex-lover off her feet. Or something. At least Anne Rice got the vampires right.

The cashier tries to lure him into conversation a few more times, but he's very obvious about his distaste. By the time he's about twenty pages in, she's given up, and has taken to leaning back against her counter and waiting for customers. Or at least that's what he assumes she's doing. When they finally call for 'B' seating on his flight, he marks his page, closes his book, and sticks it in his bag before walking over to the line to board.

"Bye, Kanda!" The cashier calls.

He doesn't respond, but does give her a slight nod while he's turned away, and he hears her slightly demure laugh over the loud crowds of the terminal.

By the time he's boarded in his plane, thankfully at a window seat, he puts his tray table in the upright position and watches outside the small porthole of a window.

It's going to be a long thirteen hours.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One:**

Tokyo is –

He hates it. So much he really can't find any adjectives for the damn city. It's crowded and cold and fucking confusing. New Orleans is like a fucking hick town compared to it.

His hotel is located just outside downtown; it's expensive and small and he hates it too. There's nothing about this trip that makes him want to be there. Not a single goddamn thing. Of course, there's the alternative. Being back home. Does he really want that either, though? Not really. But he doesn't _have_ to face Allen. Alma is something he can't get away from. Something that will haunt him for the rest of his life.

Alma was his first friend; he can easily admit that much at least. And Alma loved him so dearly that it was almost sickening. During those early childhood years, all they had was each other – through the difficult nights and all the shitty situations they got into. And then that all just ended one day. His entire life was destroyed and recreated within the same smooth strike of a sword. Even so many years later, he's not so sure that everything was for the better. He could have stayed with the system, become stronger at Alma's side…

But there's no way he could have known. And he can't go back and change it now.

The only thing he can control is his own future.

* * *

><p>"Kanda, come in."<p>

He blinks in the brighter light of the meeting room as he strides forward. It's empty, save Bak Chan and a few Oriental scientists.

"It's been so long," Bak continues. "What, eleven, twelve years?"

"Yeah," Kanda replies simply. He doesn't look at Bak as he sits in one of the chairs. "Where is he?"

"Alma?" Of course fucking Alma; who else? "In a room just down the hall. We weren't sure if…"

_If I'd attack him?_ Kanda smirks a bit to himself. "So where are all the guards then? If you're worried?"

"_I_ trust you, Kanda." Bak sighs. "I owe you that much, after everything that my family did –"

"Not a fucking excuse. You can't hide behind that stupid sympathy. It happened. It's over. I was called over here for a reason and I'd like to just get it all over with." Which is only half of a lie.

"Right," Bak nods. "Well…I'll go get him then."

It's all so very stupid. Why didn't they take him off of the support like they were going to? And then, even more confusing – why is Alma Karma asking for _him_, of all people? He nearly killed Alma. There shouldn't be any reunions whatsoever. Unless Alma plans on attacking him as soon as they lay eyes on each other, but Kanda isn't sure that's going to happen. Everyone's fairly relaxed, as much as they can be with feeling as awkward as they do. Everything was really _their_ fault, but he thought they'd have gotten over themselves by now.

Guess not.

The door to the room opens very slowly, silently, and he looks up with feigned disinterest. He's curious, to be honest, but he doesn't want them to know that. He figures he should be surprised, that Alma looks the exact same as he did eleven years ago, but he's not. The only difference, he supposes, is in the way Alma looks at him – his eyes not full of happiness, but of a cold emptiness. Kanda finds his fingers itching in that way that tells him danger is near, that he needs to pick up Mugen and defend himself, but there was no way he could have gotten that sword through customs.

"Yu…" Alma starts. His voice is cracked and broken, as though he hasn't spoken in years and he's only now able to talk. Kanda notices him swallow, notices how angry he seems. But behind it all, something inherently Alma tells Kanda that it's not all he's holding back. "You're actually here."

"Yeah," he responds, standing. It's rather surreal, watching someone he thought to be dead start to walk towards him. He stands his ground, feels his hand absentmindedly reach for a weapon that isn't there. Alma notices the movement as well, and a small, sad grin forms on his face.

"Want to finish the job?"

"That's not why I'm here."

"No?" Alma asks. "Then why?"

They're treading on thin ice – Kanda can feel fractures forming beneath his feet. He's here for some sort of…closure, he supposes, but isn't sure of how to say that. He's never going to apologize for what happened, he had to do what he had to do, but he needs Alma to…well, he's not sure of what he needs Alma to do.

"Yu?"

Kanda looks at him closely and sees a few signs of adulthood he hadn't before – even while Alma was in a coma, he still grew.

When Kanda says nothing, Alma sighs harshly, anger still evident in his eyes. "It feels like it only happened a few months ago, to me. When they finally told me how long had passed, and then that you were still alive…" He grits his teeth and looks away. "I hate you…and it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to kill you on the spot," Kanda has never felt such a strong need for his Mugen before. "First I just have to know," his eyes soften just a bit. "Why you attacked me. We could have been _together_. We could have killed them, and then we could have been free."

"You turned on _me_."

"Only after," Alma says. "When I knew you weren't going to help me. That you were going to choose them over me…" There's a slight trembling in his now clenched fists. "You betrayed me – do you know how that feels? To be betrayed by someone you love?"

Kanda can't bring himself to answer.

"And now…you're here. Like nothing ever happened."

Kanda is silent for a moment, but then snorts and leans against the long table. "You asked for me. If you only wanted to know the answer to why I attacked you, you could have used a fuckin' phone. Don't act like I came back a groveling mess and you didn't do anything wrong."

Blinking a few times, rapidly, Alma doesn't really look like he has an answer to that. His fists stop trembling, and he looks Kanda right in the eye. "I…I wanted to see you…" He looks down at the floor. "I don't know why, because I feel that I hate you so much my chest is on fire…but I couldn't stop the feeling." He bites his bottom lip as he says, "Yu, I've missed you. Why? I hate you, so why?"

"I don't know." Alma looks like he's teetering on the edge, and he doesn't have his weapon – he'd have no way to defend himself. And there's no way he's going to let this kid be the one to kill him, even if he is…

That's not really important. Years ago, maybe he'd have egged Alma on; maybe he would have looked for a fight, but for some reason when he thinks of fighting Alma now, uncertainty blooms in the pit of his stomach. Not out of fear, per say – he can't really place why – but his intuition is nagging at him.

He's not sure of why he thought he'd be able to get over here and wouldn't need any kind of self-defense. This isn't what he learned, all those years ago. He's getting soft, he knows he is, and it's annoying. His reflexes aren't as sharp as they were, and he suddenly finds himself wishing for a training session. Something to hone his skill, to go back over rough patches and smooth them down. If he had what he had before, maybe he really could do what he was meant to do – what the Chan family wanted for him and Alma and even, at one point, Marie.

Maybe he really _could_ wipe out the NOAH family.

"Right..." Alma responds, finally. Kanda's phone vibrates in his pocket from an email, but he ignores it and crosses his arms.

No, he'd never be able to alone.

"You wanted to see me, here I am." Kanda tells him. "I came all the way to fucking Japan for this." He's really just lucky that the idiot Bak Chan was able to pay for the ticket, because there was no way Kanda was going to pay for all this.

"Because you wanted something too, right?" Alma sighs and leans against the far wall, by the door where he came in. "I know you, Yu," he smiles sadly. "You wouldn't have come just for me. Things must have really come together well for you to agree to this so easily. I know you don't want to answer me – you're not going to tell me why you actually came…it makes me angry, and every inch of me wants to fight you, to get revenge for my betrayal, but I'm not going to do that. You're still my friend…so that's why I'm going to ask…" He pauses, coming a bit closer now. "Will you stay here? You can finish your schooling – Bak told me you're studying science. We can be like we used to be…"

He's stunned into a silence for a moment – he most certainly didn't expect _this_ shit to happen. Alma is supposed to hate him, not want to be friends with him. And besides…

"No." Kanda says simply. "I'm not staying here. I fucking hate this city."

"That's fine," Alma says. "We'll go somewhere else. Can't we, Bak?"

Bak, who returned just behind Alma and took up a subtle position in the doorway, looks at him sadly. "I don't know…"

"You've been keeping me here all my life…" Alma says, steadily, turning his head only a little bit to look behind him. "After all the things you've done, don't you think you could just allow this one thing?"

"You ask him like you know I'll agree," Kanda tells him. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because you're already here," Alma returns simply. "Whatever you were getting away from or whatever you want here – it must be a desperate feeling you have. You forget that we were best friends, Yu. I know you better than anyone else."

That statement sets Kanda's teeth on edge. "You _don't_ know me."

"You're still so mean, Yu," he sighs. "If I don't know you, then why don't you tell me? Tell me everything."

"_I want to know everything about you," Allen tells him, taking his hands. "I've always wanted to know everything about you. I've always wanted you to tell me your secrets, secrets you've never told anyone else." _

The memory flares up like wildfire, burning through him, and anger blooms in his chest brighter than before. How dare they – the both of them. Always presuming they even deserve to know everything about him. He grits his teeth and glares at Alma, who holds his position and stares back evenly. "I'm leaving. Don't even fucking _think_ about following me. Don't try to contact me, either."

He stomps past Alma, is almost completely out of the room, ready to leave this stupid fucking country, when he hears, "Have you found them yet?"

"…Who?" He's sure he knows what Alma is going to say, though.

"The NOAH."

"No." He pauses. "They're impossible to just _find_."

"Not true," Alma says. Kanda turns around, interest piqued, and he sees Alma shake his head. "You know what we were trained for. Together, we could find them. We could get rid of them. Isn't that what you really want? Revenge, right?"

"Don't be stupid," Kanda scoffs. "As if you could locate them. Even if you could find them, you'd be no help to me at all."

"Do you think that you can destroy them all on your own, Yu?"

Kanda says nothing to that, mainly because Alma's right. There's no way, even with all of the training in the world, that he'd be able to take down all thirteen members – fourteen…Bile rises in his throat at the thought of perhaps having a fourteenth NOAH to kill.

"I'm sure there are others who want revenge on our enemy. We could do it. We could put to use all of the shitty things we went through. Those years don't have to be in vain."

The offer is appealing, and yet…

"…No." Kanda shakes his head. "I'm doing things my way. I don't care if I can't do it on my own. I'm going to fucking try."

"But you'll _lose."_

Kanda narrows his eyes at Alma, but otherwise says nothing. He can't understand. Kanda thought he might, but he was mistaken. Defeating the NOAH, or at least – just combating them – is something he needs to do on his own. Having someone at his side would just slow him down, give him something to think and worry about besides himself. He can't have that.

"Whatever," Kanda says, finally. If Alma can't understand, then that's fine.

He goes to leave again, gets halfway down the hall, when Bak runs after him. "Kanda, he's right." A pause. "You can't do this on your own."

"Shut up," Kanda snaps, not slowing his gait. "Didn't you fucking hear me? I don't care. This was a stupid goddamn idea to come here. I figured it might be something I needed to do and it wasn't in the slightest. A waste. A fucking waste."

"So you're going back home then? After everything that happened?"

Kanda finds himself stopping without meaning to. "What…?"

"Komui told me," Bak says, slowly, as if he's dealing with a frightened animal, "what happened with Allen Walker."

"Shut up!" He pivots on his heel. "Don't say a single fucking word about it."

"Are you going home still?"

Kanda grits his teeth so hard it makes his head hurt. He could throttle this idiot; he could leave him bloody and trembling on the ground if he wanted to.

"Fuck you. I'll do what I want."

"What do you _want_ to do?" Bak pauses. "I've heard a lot about Walker. He seems nice, innocent. That's what gets you, doesn't it? He agitates you."

"Tch, the fuck do you know?"

"That just about everyone aggravates you, especially people like him. He must be an amazing kid, but you ran away from him anyway."

"_I didn't run from anything_," he seethes. He pauses for an intake of breath, to calm himself a little. Bak doesn't look scared of him though. He never has in moments like these, even though he should be. Idiot. "I'm going home – not for him, but to find these goddamn bastards. _On my own_. I don't want your fucking help. I don't give two shits what you think or say to me, because I'm not going to change my mind."

"What should I tell Alma?"

"…Have a nice fucking life." It stings to say that, he has to admit, but what is he supposed to say? Alma was his best friend, but that was years ago. There are still…feelings…there, but he can't just continue on like nothing ever happened. The closure he came for is something he'll have to give himself. Alma can't do anything for him anymore.

No one can.

* * *

><p>As soon as he gets back to his hotel room, he lies down on his bed, fully-clothed, and falls asleep. He feels exhausted, more mentally and emotionally than anything else. Anger courses through his veins like a bad drug, tensing him up and making him feel sick to his stomach. Anger, though, is something he's used to. Anger at the NOAH, at Allen, at everyone; he can deal with anger. It's everything else that gets him. It's the open wounds. Everything Bak and Alma said today – it's been too personal. They've been too right. He hates it. He hates that Bak, of all people, could say a few words and make him ready to commit murder. He doesn't ever let people get to him like that.<p>

So he goes to sleep, to shake off those feelings, planning to pack his things as soon as he wakes up. This was a stupid decision. He never should have come.

* * *

><p>He wakes up to his phone ringing. It's obnoxious and loud and it takes all of his inner strength not to throw it against the wall. Instead, he groggily picks it up and puts it to his ear. "<em>Would you like to accept a collect call from<em>: _Yuuuu~ it's your bestieeeeee~! Press one for yes, two for no._

He sits up immediately, completely awake. "What? No!" He jabs his finger on the number two more harshly than he probably needs to.

"_Collect call denied. Putting you through…"_ The phone rights a couple of times before it picks up. Kanda sighs heavily, but doesn't hang up. As long as he doesn't have to pay for the phone bill. International calls are insanely priced. "_Yu! You're not going to pay to hear your best friend's voice!"_

"You're an idiot. You do realize you're going to go bankrupt on this phone call? You should hang up while you can."

"_Hmmm_," Lavi makes a short pause. "_But this is important! You didn't reply to my emails, so I had to call you!"_

The emails.

Oh well.

"What?" Kanda asks, annoyed a little bit more than usual due to being woken up.

"_Okay, so Lenalee told me not to tell you, as it would make you – I don't know, what word did she use? Well, I can't remember – I'll just go with emotionally constipated-"_

"Get to the point!" he grits out.

"_Allen's got a gig. He applied to NOCA, and they're giving him an audition-slash-interview type thing. I'm just so proud of him! You should hear him play – it's so beautiful! When he plays he looks like one of those European instrumentalists or some shit. Like, I imagine a beach and water splashing all around him and – oh wait he is European. Oh goodness either I'm getting used to that cute little accent or he's starting to speak more American. Oh my god. No. Don't ever change, little one!"_ It's obvious that last statement is directed at someone else in the room. "_Shut up, Lavi!" _Comes the frantic reply. "_Please get off the phone!" _Allen's voice is something akin to lightning for Kanda, heating up his body was too quickly for his comfort. Longing blooms in his chest and he hates the kid for it. Hates himself even more. "_Anyway, I was just saying you should come back before the semester ends and_-"

"Lavi, shut up."

"_But, Yu!"_

"Goodbye, Lavi."

"_No, don't hang up! I love you!"_

Again, he presses down on a button harder than strictly necessary.

This time he does throw the phone at the wall.

* * *

><p>He gets a call again about two days later, as he's packing up his things. He answers with, "No I will not accept any goddamn collect calls!"<p>

"_Kanda, how nice to hear from you_!"

"…Komui?"

"_Yep. Listen, I talked with Bak Chan and we agreed that_-"

"No _fucking_ way. Do you two share bedtimes stories or some shit? Why the hell were you talking with that idiot?"

"_We have a common interest_," Komui chuckles.

"Fucking hell."

"_Also, and you may not know this, but he and I used to work together_."

"…What?"

"_Not too long ago. Maybe three or four years. We had a project together – he came over a couple times for dinner. He seemed nice to Lenalee. Naturally I didn't let them stay in the same room together."_

_Naturally_, Kanda almost responds, sarcastic. "What the fuck ever. You two assholes had better not be agreeing on things about me. If you are, you might as well just hang up now since you're footing the bill for this phone call."

"_It just seems logical_," Komui responds, in a more normal tone. "_For you to stick with Alma_."

"No. No matter how many times I have to say it, _no_."

"_I know, Bak told me that as well, but I have to insist. You can't combat them on your own. Daisya died_-"

"I'm not Daisya."

"_No, I know that…_" He says, sadly. "_And he'll never be replaced. But even if you are different; even with your training - you're no match for all of them_."

He's heard all of this shit already. He doesn't need to hear it again. "Is this the only reason you called?"

"_Well, not exactly_…"

"What the fuck else do you want?" He sighs.

"_I don't want to say_..."

"I will murder you. I will find a way even overseas. Fucking tell me so I can hang up the phone."

"_It's Lenalee…she_…"

"What?"

"_She says she misses you_!" He cries – Kanda hears something break in the background. "_She wants you to come home but to be honest I don't want you anywhere near my Lenalee so stay over there_!" He pauses, then says in a happier tone, "_That's all_."

He feels that he might actually have the power to murder via cell phone.

* * *

><p>He returns to the building where he spoke with Alma just before he's ready to leave the country. He's careful not to run into Alma; it's Bak he's looking for. He was apparently supposed to speak with him before he leaves, even if all his travel fares are paid for and his ticket is waiting at the airport for him already. He can do this much at least – even if he can't bring himself to face Alma again, he can talk to Bak.<p>

When he first enters Bak's office, there's an older man standing there that he vaguely recognizes, but he pays no mind to that. The man takes one look at Kanda, and then promptly walks out.

Bak shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "Kanda…nice to see you again. You haven't changed your mind have you?"

"Fuck no."

"Maybe I should…?"

"What? Make me? I'm not a fucking kid. I can take care of myself."

"I _know_ that, but…"

Kanda lets out a sound of disgust. "I don't give a shit what you say; didn't you hear me the other day? I'm not changing my mind or my plans." He crosses his arms, feeling the usual aggravation course through him. It's not a new feeling. "You can follow me around for all I care if you think it'll do you any fucking good."

"I'm not going to follow you around," Bak sighs. "I just – I get worried."

"Well don't!" Kanda snarls. "I don't need you _to take care of me_. I'm a grown fucking adult. If you're like this because you think I can't handle it, build a bridge and get over it. Genuinely wanting to help is different from sheltering me like a child."

"I do want to help you. I want to help you by _keeping you alive_."

"You act like I'll die so easily, but you know better than anyone that it's not that simple."

"You're not invincible or immortal. You are powerful though, I'll grant you that. I mean, with you and Alma togeth-"

"Shut the fuck up! I'm tired of hearing that shit. You and Komui are like broken goddamn records. I'm not going on some _awesome_ little adventure with my _best fucking friend_." He grinds out, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Bak raises an eyebrow. "Things aren't like they used to be. If Alma hadn't done all that stupid shit years ago – attacked _your_ people, which you so easily overlook now – then sure, maybe something like that could have happened. But things will never be the same. It can't ever go back to how it was."

Which is kind of a lie because Alma – Alma will always have this certain place with him. If Alma was persistent enough, he's sure he'd lose his will and go along with what he asked, but this is really something he doesn't want to budge on. He needs to do this on his own. He can't have anybody else to worry about, and if Alma was there…

It could be worse, he supposes; Alma is strong. Still, he refuses to give in without a fight. He won't cave easily at all. If he has to push every single person in his life away – and he has already with some of the bigger ones – he can do it. He doesn't need all that friendship and love bullshit, because he has something more important. He has motivation. Drive. A need for revenge so powerful that it makes him physically ache sometimes. It might not be healthy – not what he's learned is right, but he stopped giving a shit about right and wrong not too long after the first boy he kissed. So he's going to do what he wants, and everyone else can fuck themselves. He's going to draw a thick veil around himself and go back to New Orleans, to start up his search from where their last murder was. Their last documented murder, anyhow.

Daisya.

"Kanda, you've always been stubborn," Bak says, kind of affectionately. It doesn't help his irritation. "Listen," he starts. "I can't really make you do anything – I know that. I just want to advise you. I feel responsible for a lot of wha-"

"Don't you fucking dare," Kanda spits, narrowing his eyes, ready to jump out of his chair. "You know how I hate that shit."

"I know," Bak smiles, sadly. "Alright, I won't say anything else about it. You do what you need to do, Kanda. If you need help, we'll be here. I just wanted to see you one last time before you leave us for a final time."

Kanda finds that he almost thanks Bak without really thinking about it.

* * *

><p>His seat classification is called, and he takes one more look around, takes in all the sights and sounds of the terminal, then scoffs and walks onto the jet bridge. He slings his carry-on over his shoulder and is careful not to let anyone touch him. He's edgy, thinking about going back home – to New Orleans. It's not even that he's frightened of the NOAH, or what it might take to combat them; it's so much more than that. It's not that he's scared; it's more that he's…anticipating. Wondering what'll be like to hear their dying breath – relishing the images he can conjure up in his mind. But then, once he steps onto the actual plane, those thoughts die out.<p>

He cares no less for his revenge, but instead begins to wonder which of the NOAH's he'll be able to actually get to, and if any of them will have white hair, a red tattoo, and a fucked up arm.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

"So I was thinking," Lavi starts. "That you should come with us to this music thing."

Kanda feels that the best appropriate answer is a slight snarl. "A _music thing_?"

"Yeah, yeah, you know. It's all swankified and shit."

"Lavi, you of all people should know that 'swankified' is not a word," Lenalee sighs.

"Swankified: Swanky. A place where snobbish peeps gather 'round and discuss how grand they are in their respective fields. Synonyms: Posh; puttin' on the Ritz! Antonyms: Yu's house!"

It takes a shitload of inner strength not to attack Lavi. He's been home for all of two days, and he already finds himself wanting to go into some kind of isolation, just live in the woods for the rest of his life or some shit.

"Why?" He growls out.

"Because it'll be _fun_! And listen, it's not even a ploy to get you to hang out with Al-pal because he's not coming with us!"

"No."

"Please? Come on, it'll be good for you to get out and about. Since you got back you've just been holed up, doing research and shit. You scheduled all of your last semester classes online and quit your assistant job. It's like you're _trying_ to retreat into the darkness!" Lavi exclaims.

Kanda exhales harshly through his nose, repeats a mantra of, '_Killing him would only complicate things_,' in his head over and over again. Yes, he is avoiding that outside world Lavi and Lenalee are so fond of, but not without reason. How is he going to get anything done if he's spending all his time in classes, or hanging out at – _ugh_ – _music things_? What the fuck does that really even mean? Lavi's got some kind of stupid-ass trick up his sleeve, he can feel it.

"No," he repeats, more firmly. The red-head doesn't reply to that immediately, just leans back a little in his chair, looking a bit thoughtful.

Lenalee starts to protest in his place, but Lavi, surprisingly, stops her. "No, no, that's quite alright, Yu." He smiles, and Kanda doesn't like that look at all. Lavi is normally mischievous, but when he outright shows it? "Don't worry. You don't have to go. You just stay home with your books and your newspapers." He stands up from the couch where he was sitting, motions to Lenalee. "Come, Darling. Let us take our leave." Lenalee gives him a weird look, but stands up as well.

"Bye, Kanda," she smiles. "If you change your mind, send me a text. My number hasn't changed." And the way she talks to him could almost make him feel a bit…guilty; Lenalee has been his friend for years and years, and she's always been the only one who could guilt him into doing something. It's hard to say no to her.

"Bye, Yu," Lavi waves. "Catch'ya later." He puts one arm around Lenalee and begins to lead her out of the door. "It's probably for the best though," he says to her, a bit too loudly if he's really trying to whisper, which he isn't. "I heard a rumor that the Earl has an interest in this kind of music, and Yu's simply not ready for that kind of confrontation." Lavi shrugs.

"Lavi!" Lenalee exclaims, a bit more quietly.

"You manipulative asshole," Kanda spits. "I'm not so fucking blinded by –" No, this is wrong. Lavi shouldn't have _known_ about his plans. No one was supposed to know. He wasn't going to drag anyone else into it, because they would all just slow him down. But this motherfucker just casually whips it around in conversation like it's common knowledge. And then, to have the fucking gall to fucking talk about the fucking Earl like that, so easily and so fucking –

"Kanda, _breathe_," Lenalee says, and she's suddenly right in front of him. Her hands are on his arms and there's a worried look on her face. "Lavi, that was low. You know how he gets about the N- about that group!"

But Lavi's looking a little more serious than Kanda would like. There's really no winning with the fucking red-head. It's bad news if he's happy or serious, either way. "Blinded by what, Yu?" He crosses his arms. "Why did you really go to Japan? It was supposed to be a semester trip right? But it only lasted a few days. And how did you even have the money to afford round trip tickets so close together, and during holiday season? It really is something to do with the NOAH, right? See, Lenalee? We discussed this in the car. Yu's plotting something, and it's dangerous."

A growl starts in the base of his throat, low and coarse. Lavi's too fucking smart for his own good. He didn't know anything about Kanda's plans, until he himself slipped up and made a stupid fucking comment in his own anger.

"No, I wasn't serious about the Earl being at the concert; though it might make sense if he did show up, he wouldn't risk being in public like that."

"Why would it make sense for him to be there?" Kanda replies, eyes slits as he glares at Lavi.

But Lavi's ready for him, and whether it's the truth or a lie, he tells it effortlessly. "Because we're all connected to Allen. And the generals. It's safe to assume he watches us wherever we go."

Kanda can't deny that. And to get his hands around the Earl's neck, to watch the life pour out of him, it would give him some semblance of happiness; he could never attack him in a public place though, with everyone around. And besides, if the entirety of the NOAH family was there, there'd be no way he could take them all on at once. Still, if the Earl _was_ there…it's smart to read up on your enemy, to learn their ways through words, but it's even better to follow them with your own eyes.

"Fine, I'll go. But I'm bringing headphones."

"You won't use them, trust me," Lavi grins, smile widening each second. And that's when Kanda realizes he's lost.

Not surprising, Lavi wins mind-games every time.

* * *

><p>The concert hall is big and noisy – he immediately hates it. It smells weird and people swarm around trying to find their seat or the rest of their friends or family. All he wants is to leave – fuck the concert shit, he doesn't give a fuck about any of it.<p>

Lenalee grabs his arm and drags him down the steps closer to the stage. "We're down here," she says, tugging. He growls a bit, but doesn't say anything, lets himself get pulled along. Lavi is there, right behind him, and follows them both while rattling off about how prestigious this'll be and how amazing it'll all sound. How everyone in this fucking concert is really talented.

And again, he just doesn't give a fuck.

With a harsh sigh, he sits down in his assigned seat – it's four rows back from the stage and right in the middle of the seats. Meaning he can't just escape when he feels like it. He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at the stage, crumples the program in his hand. A lone piano sits one the far left side of the stage, and there's a swelling of nostalgia in him for a moment, coming home from high school, listening to Marie play Tiedoll anything he wanted with such natural talent. It would fill the house, melody after melody, and Kanda absolutely hated it because of how easily they got stuck in his head. He might not hate it as much now, though.

Everything was so much easier back then. It's fucking insane to think that things in his life have gotten even shittier since leaving Japan the first time.

The lights in the hall dim and everybody quiets down. This is nice, now if only they'd stay that way – forever. If everyone could learn to shut up, Kanda might actually experience happiness. Or something like it. A spotlight blinks on in the middle of the stage, sweeps to the right as a young girl walks into view and towards a cello. She sits in the chair behind it and closes her eyes for a second before inhaling and pulling her long bow against the strings.

Kanda's never really enjoyed classical music, but he doesn't absolutely hate the sound coming from the stage. A boy holding a viola walks onto the stage while she's playing and effortlessly joins in. Instrument after instrument; trumpets and cymbals and clarinets. An oboe, whatever the fuck that is. Then the music starts to die down, get lower and lower, and soft piano notes rise from the new almost-silence. He thinks he might recognize the music, something by Mozart or Bach or some shit like that. As the tempo picks up, the light on the pianist grows more intense, and it doesn't take long for the bright light to reflect on white hair. On reflex, he stands up, ready to completely leave, but Lenalee tugs him back down without a word. She doesn't even look away from him. Grinding his teeth, he looks down at the program he crumpled up. Smoothing out the paper, he opens to the back of the first page: _Rondo Alla Turca (Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart)_ and then across from it, _Allen Walker. _

The song seems to go on forever, and Kanda can just barely make out pale fingers flying across the keyboard in time. The song is ridiculous, note after note, sounds moving almost too quickly for him to register. When the song ends, the light dies down, returns to the cellist. But he doesn't care at all about the music being played. Bach be damned, he just wants to get the fuck out of the concert hall. Lavi wasn't lying when he said Allen wasn't going to be going with them, because he was already fucking here. He clutches the arms of his chair as the Cello Suite ends, and a piano concerto begins. Tchaikovsky doesn't soothe him either, but that's probably because of who's playing it.

There has to be some kind of intermission or some shit right? He can get out then. They can't keep him here. This is stupid. So fucking stupid.

He's about to crumple up the program and throw it at the ground when something on the opposite page catches his eye. _A Classical Rendition of 'Faithfully' (Journey)_ and then, across from it, _Allen Walker_. Fuck.

Of all the songs he could have chosen. All of the songs ever fucking created, he chose 'Faithfully'? Fucking idiot.

It doesn't matter. Not even one bit. He's not staying. At intermission, he's getting up and walking away. He doesn't have time for this kind of shit. He has more important things to be worrying about. He glances around the concert hall subtly.

Well of course there's no sign of the Earl, that'd be too easy. Though Lavi wasn't lying about that either, him having a reason for being here. To watch the kid. The Earl probably couldn't give two shits about them, unless he thought they'd be good for bait or some shit. Allen is his main goal; everyone else, to him, is just a pawn.

Song after song is played, with different instruments, in different keys and tempos – a multitude of nothing in his ears. He just needs to escape. He looks over at Lenalee and sees tears in her eyes. She looks back at him and smiles; his response is a grimace. She hardens her gaze a bit and he rolls his eyes and sneers before looking at the stage again. He supposes he should at least look like he's paying some sort of attention.

When the curtain falls for intermission, he immediately bolts up from his seat, followed by Lenalee and Lavi, and makes a run for the entrance. "Kanda, where are you going?" Lenalee asks once they're out of the hall. Her voice still echoes in the vaulted ceiling of the lobby.

"Home," he answers harshly.

Lavi scoffs at him, "It's like you're _not_ having a good time watching your ex-boyfriend rock it on the piano." Kanda glares at him as hard as he can, and hopes like hell it gets his point across. If it doesn't, though, Kanda doesn't mind resorting to physical pain. "Alright, alright, so we kind of tricked you. But what if you had missed this? Don't you think you may have regretted it later? And besides, you saw that solo piece he's playing at the end, right? I think it _might_ be a bit of a message to you, Yu."

Exhaling sharply, Kanda shakes his head. "I don't give a shit," he snarls. "There's no point in me being here; I have more important things to do than sit and watch some stupid white haired kid beat on the piano and-"

"Do you mean Allen Walker?" A girl walking by asks. She's younger than any of them, maybe thirteen or so, and she's frowning. "He's some sort of god when he plays. Do you not have ears?"

Kanda goes to reply, but Lavi beats him to it. "He's the best, isn't he? I'd give _anything_ to meet him!"

"I know, right?" The girl replies, a smile lighting her face after that one simple sentence.

"He's so _dreamy_," Lavi swoons, making the girl giggle.

Now would be the perfect time to go the fuck home. Standing here and listening to Lavi being an idiot is almost worse than the actual concert. No, no – it is worse. It's much worse. He scoffs and spins on his heel goes to walk out of the glass double doors. He's prepared to walk from Marigny all the way back to New York.

"That's right, Yu. Run away," Lavi calls after him. "I suppose that you really want to stay miserable for the rest of your life."

Damn straight. Why have hopes or dreams or _love_? All that shit just gets in the way. Happiness? There's no such thing as happiness in revenge. All he's hoping for is satisfaction. Just to be at fucking peace.

"He misses you, Kanda," Lenalee says, lower. He's stopped in the middle of the doorway by her hand on his arm. "And I know you miss him. Why are you fooling yourself like this? Burying yourself in a dangerous plan for revenge when you can be happy with him? There will always be evil people in the world, but if there was no such thing as forgiveness, then-"

"_Forgiveness_?" Kanda spits. "You want me to forgive them?"

He looks at her as though she's crazy. She must be. "Don't get me wrong, Kanda. I hate them. I do. I hate them for what they did to me, and to you and to Allen, but there's nothing I can do. Even if you or I run off and kill every last one of them, it's not going to bring our loved ones back. It's only going to cause more pain and suffering."

"So they're supposed to just sit around, proud of themselves for what they've done, ready to do it a million times over?"

"No, of course not, but it's not for you to stop them. Kanda, you're a college student. I know you were brought up differently, I know some things happened when you were a kid and you're never going to be the same, I know that's just the kind of human being you are, but you're not a police officer. You're not an agent, or warrior of some sort. You're a student. You're a lab assistant. You like botany and eighties music and this isn't you."

"You have no idea what happened to me. You have no idea about my life in Japan. This may not be the me that you know, but it doesn't mean it's not the real me." He tells her, voice low and dangerous. "I'm leaving."

And with that, he does.

* * *

><p>He flips through the real estate catalog, bored. He needs to move, to be honest. Somewhere low-key, and closer to downtown; the fucking house he's in now is shitty and holds to many fucking memories. That's not all, though – the NOAH generally stick to the French Quarter, City Park, and the surrounding areas. If he's closer, he'll be at an advantage. Regardless, they'll know where he's living, so he might as well live right on the boundary – somewhere like St. Roch or Bywater. Not like he can afford the Garden district, so that's out.<p>

Renting a house would be better as well, cheaper, and he doesn't need anything over the top – it'd all just get in the way. A small one bedroom would be fine for him.

Sighing harshly, he shuts the catalog. He's not going to be doing anything too large yet. He has a good bit of money saved up (he doesn't need to use it on frivolous shit like most people do, so it just sits in the bank and accrues interest most of the time; plus, Tiedoll left all of them with a decent amount of money) but he wants to be sure first. He doesn't need anything fucking up his plans.

He frowns before placing another pin on his map.

* * *

><p>"Wait, you're <em>selling<em> the piano?" Lenalee asks. "Why?"

"I have no fucking need for it. It's just wasting space."

"Don't sell it, Kanda, just don't. It was Tiedoll's; don't you think you should keep that memory? At least give it to Marie." She pleads. He would, almost, but it came with the house and that makes it his. Just another asset that he can sell.

"He doesn't need it. He has one already."

"Wait, you're selling the _artwork_?" Lavi chimes in, incredulous. "And half the furniture, and half the weaponry, and your records? Did we miss the trip to the psych ward?" He's flipping through papers, mail, and Kanda snatches it from his grip without another thought.

"I don't need any of this shit. It's just useless memories."

"Don't sell his artwork – keep it. Keep the piano, keep the records, keep everything!" Lavi exclaims.

"Memories aren't useless," Lenalee offers, lowly.

"They are."

Lavi scoffs. "Okay, so that painting's for sale, right?" He asks, pointing at a still life above the sink. Kanda nods. "How much?"

"Three hundred."

"Uh-huh, and what about that one?" He points to the landscape behind the table.

"Three hundred."

"And the giant portrait of your family that was hanging in the living room before you hid it in the guest bedroom closet?"

"Nothing. I'm burning it."

"Kanda, that's terrible, you can't do that." Lenalee shakes her head.

"Fucking watch me."

"No – no, no, no. We're not letting you do this. Lena and I were part of this family too, we loved Tiedoll too – and your brothers – and this isn't happening."

"Are you going to stop me?" Kanda growls, narrowing his eyes at Lavi.

"If I must," Lavi smiles.

Kanda gives him a sharp snarl, "How, exactly?"

"I'll think of something. Oh, wait, right, you know what we forgot about Lenalee? Remember when Komui was talking to us about something – something like Bak Chan and a few other scientists traveling over here to New Orleans out of worry or something. Didn't he say something about someone named Alma, and something about someone named Zu Mei and a whole bunch of people?"

"We were going to tell him a bit more gently, Lavi…" Lenalee whispers.

Kanda nearly breaks his island in half.

"What the _fuck_ are you talking about?"

"Yeah, no, I just remembered. And they were saying something about, oh what was it - right, it was because they thought you'd pull something exactly like this. This is what Komui meant, Lena-babe. They said he might go a bit crazy, start doing stupid and dangerous things and that maybe we should try to talk to him. Because, ya see, I brought up that one little conversation we had about the Earl and –"

"Shut the fuck up!" Kanda snaps. "You got fucking Chan involved? I should kick your fucking ass!"

"I didn't get anybody involved. Komui did. They're apparently semi-good friends. And Bak told him all about your trip, and all the things you said, and I think, collectively, we're all just a good bit worried about you!"

"Well, stop! Like I told that fucking idiot, I don't need to be watched like I'm a fucking child. I don't need idiots like you, and like Komui, and like Bak to keep tabs on me. I know what the fuck I'm doing. This was years of my life, training me for this shit. And to bring in fucking Alma. Is he ever going to let go of that fucking notion that we're going to team up? It's never going to fucking happen. I don't give a shit about what _any_ of you think. If I want to sell artwork, or kill a fucking psychopath, that's my own goddamn business."

"Fine," Lavi says, finally. "Lenalee, he's obviously not going to accept our help. Maybe if he hadn't been an idiot about Allen either, he could talk some sense into Kanda's hard-fucking-head, but the little Beansprout doesn't do much but play piano and occasionally hang with us nowadays."

"Unfortunately," Lenalee says, sad. "I don't know if Allen would be able to get through to him, either…"

It's not long after that that they take their leave.

* * *

><p>Lavi wasn't making shit up when he said Bak and the scientists were coming to New Orleans. They are. Everyone feels the desperate need to interfere with his life, and it's starting to really piss him off. When he moves, he's not telling a fucking soul where he lives.<p>

Superficially, Lavi's threat about them coming, trying to get Kanda to stop from selling all the shit in the house, it's empty. But Kanda's not an idiot. He sees what Lavi's getting at. Tiedoll is the one that saved him from that life, and now, all of a sudden, he's throwing away everything that man gave him just to return to it. Chan's not going to let it go. Chan and his group of people really would do their best to put an end to Kanda's vendetta. He doesn't have time to deal with that kind of shit.

* * *

><p>He flattens the map out a bit, places another pin on an alley right off of St. Charles. He writes Daisya above it in bold letters before picking up an old newspaper and looking at the picture there. An older man smiles serenely, hair disheveled, clothes covered in paint.<p>

_Recently identified Froi Tiedoll was found in a half-street between Canal and Iberville; the only lead the NOPD currently has is the NOAH trademark. Aged 41, Tiedoll was a father of four, and lived in Lake Terrace, near the river. _

He places a pin on Dorsiere and writes Tiedoll above it in red.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Despite the heavy wind, he does his best to light his cigarette several times before it catches. The butt glows red as he inhales, swallows the smoke and revels in the burning sensation down his throat and drifting into his lungs. If Marlboro made something stronger than a 100, he'd change to that – since he started again a few months ago, he's gotten far too used to the potency of a 100. Still, it's not so bad he supposes. He blows the excess smoke out of his nose and flicks the excess ash on the end of the cigarette onto the ground.

He needs a huge fucking break from all the shit his life has turned into. He's immersed himself so deeply into his work that he's almost completely broken away from his old life. Again, not so bad, but he senses he's going to fail out of college his final semester of Senior year, which is shit. After so long at that goddamn university, with so much money put into it, maybe he really should at least do his work for all the online classes now and again…

He hears a sigh from just behind him and the light roll of smoke drifts over his head, mingles with his own smoke.

He pivots on his heel to find Lavi standing there, his smile looking almost sad. He flicks the ash off of his – whatever the fuck that is, a cigar – and leans back on his heels. "Funny seeing you out here, Yu," he nods.

Kanda scoffs. As if Lavi didn't come looking for him. "What do you want?" Lavi chuckles in response and puts the huge cigar between his lips. Fucking idiot.

"Well," he mutters around the monstrosity. Kanda almost, _almost_ snatches it from between his lips, throws it on the ground, and repeatedly stomps on it. "A lot of things. I want a boat, I want a million dollars, and I want my best friend back. I'm rather greedy."

Kanda doesn't respond to that; he doesn't consider himself anyone's _best friend_. He doesn't do that kind of shit.

Lavi puts a hand on his shoulder, and Kanda has to close his eyes and breathe deeply, count to ten to control his anger. "Yu," Lavi says, seriously. "Just think about this. After all of this is over, after they're gone, what are you gonna do? This is taking over your life. You can't just pick up where you left off."

"I don't plan on it. I don't want things to be the way they were before. I fucking hated that shit."

Lavi's sad smile returns, more guilt-inducing than before. "What a fuckin' lie."

A lie? No. No, it was all so annoying, right? As far back as he can remember it's been so annoying…

* * *

><p>"Hi, my name is Lenalee. What's yours?"<p>

A small, outstretched hand with pink fingernails and a multitude of jelly bracelets around the wrist suddenly appears in front of his face. With a grimace he looks up at her. "Go away."

Her eyebrows pull together in confusion and her lips turn down in disappointment. "What's your name?" She repeats.

He scoffs, harshly, and flips his black hair out of his eyes. "Kanda."

"Kanda? Wow, that's such an interesting name!" She beams, suddenly, kneeling on the ground to be eye-level with him while he sits. "Do you have a last name?"

"That is my last name."

She gets that confused look again. "Well when I asked I meant your first name, Silly." She leans forward a bit, getting a little too close to his face for comfort. "Like, my first name is Lenalee and my last name is Lee."

"I don't have a first name."

"Liar," she giggles. "Everyone has a first name."

"Not me."

"C'mon! Please tell me! I'll give you something nice if you tell me!"

He pauses for a second, thinks it over. What could this little girl possibly give someone like him? Intriguing. "It's Yu."

"Me? Is your name Lenalee, too?"

"It's Yu," he reiterates, slightly harsher than before. Stupid Americans.

"Oh," she pauses. "So it's Kanda Yu, then?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Yes. What do I get?" She bites her bottom lip, apparently deep in thought. "Don't hurt yourself. Just go away, then."

"No way, Kanda." At least she calls him by his last name. She at least picked up on that. "Here, take this." She digs into her school bag and, after a moment, pulls out a cassette case. "You can have this. It's my favorite tape right now. It's from when Brother was our age! They're called Tears for Fears and they're so awesome! Like, really awesome."

"Brother?" Kanda asks, turning the cassette over and looking at the back.

"Yeah," She smiles. "He takes care of me now. He's really nice. You should meet him one day!"

"I'll pass."

"Why are you so grumpy?" she asks, serious. "Is it because you don't have any friends? I see that you're sitting here alone. I'll be your friend if you want."

"Che," he tosses his head to the side, sitting the cassette on top of his bag. "I don't need friends."

She pauses and looks at the ground. "Everyone needs friends. Friends are the second most important thing in the world. Family is the most, but sometimes friends are like family." She draws a pattern into the dirt. "How old are you?"

"Nine."

"I'm eight," she grins.

"Congratulations."

She takes him far too seriously. "Thanks," she beams. "So, do you want to be friends then?"

"Whatever," he grunts, just wanting her to leave him alone again.

"Excellent!" she exclaims, clapping her hands. She moves to get up. "Well I'm getting married on the baseball field in five minutes, so I guess I'd better go." She wipes some dirt off of her skirt, smiling. "Don't tell Brother, though. It's a secret." She presses a finger to her lips and begins jogging towards the field. "Oh!" she begins screaming when she's a little ways away, jogging backwards. "I'll see you there, right?! You can be my Maid of Honor! My friend Hevlaska was going to do it, but -"

He can't hear the rest of what she says, because she's too far away from him to even see her anymore. Sighing, he gets up, dusts off his pants, and makes his trek towards the baseball field.

"What an annoying girl," he mutters, running fingers through his hair to make sure it looks decent for the ceremony.

* * *

><p>"It's nice that we can all eat together again," Lenalee smiles, sipping at her drink. She looks to her right. "How have lessons been, Allen?"<p>

Allen runs a hand through his stark white hair; it's not as annoying as Kanda remembered it, slightly longer, frames his face a little better, and looks soft. He must have washed it thirty times before facing the public today.

"Crazy. I feel like I play piano more than I breathe nowadays. Definitely more than I sleep. Slightly less than I eat," he smiles. Lenalee and Lavi both laugh. Kanda frowns deeply. "Well, don't you look pleased to see me," Allen rolls his eyes.

"Was it that obvious?" Kanda snaps in return. Seriously, this fucking kid.

"At least I don't smell like an ash tray."

"Fuck you."

"Eloquent as always."

Kanda clenches his fists, exhales slowly through his nose while looking away. Beansprout is _really_ pushing his fucking luck. "Short as always," he growls.

"Hey, I've grown like two inches since Christmas, okay? I am an average height."

"Well," Lavi says. "You'll _always_ be our little Beansprout."

And he can't help himself; he gives Allen a wondrous, shit-eating grin. "Bugger off," Allen scoffs, to the both of them most likely.

Lenalee just sighs happily in response. "Feels like old times again."

"Well, old, old times," Lavi offers. "Before Thelma and Louise started fucking."

"_Shut up!" _Allen screams at the same time Kanda does; they look at each other, and then Allen must find something motherfucking hilarious because he starts giggling like an idiot teenage girl. "Well, they do have a point, Kanda."

"We don't need to bring light to it."

"I suppose," Allen nods, sighing and resting his head on the back of his hand. "Wait, who's Thelma and who's Louise?"

"Kanda's definitely Louise. C'mon, strong-willed? Shoots people? That's practically Kanda's life story." Lavi smirks.

"Good point," Lenalee laughs, nodding.

Well, they're not wrong.

"He'd also fuck Brad Pitt in a heartbeat," Lavi adds.

Kanda scoffs, harshly, "Don't be fucking stupid."

"Kanda, that's like asking the ocean not to be wet," Allen deadpans. "Also, Thelma had sex with Brad Pitt's character."

"Right, well, you'd fuck him too." Lavi pauses, smirks at the look Allen gives him, and then says, "Hey, everyone at this table would, right?"

"No," Lenalee says. "Not me. Not really my type. Also, Lavi since when are you homosexual?"

"Allen and Kanda have been rubbing off on me. Oh! Double entendre. I'm so fresh."

"I have not done, nor will I ever do, any such thing," Allen says, looking slightly disgusted. Kanda has to agree with him there. The mere thought of Lavi in any sexual way makes him want to throw up.

Lavi laughs. "I'm not gay, no. I'm not bi either." He pauses. "I don't really know what I am." He taps a finger to his lips in concentration.

"You're fucking perverted. You'll just fuck anything that moves." Kanda offers.

"There! That! I'm that one! Okay, so since there's no real term for that yet, I think we should coin it after me. I'm Lavisexual."

"That would just mean you have sex with yourself," Allen says.

"Well I do that, too, but yeah, you're right." Kanda has to swallow the bile in his throat. "Omnisexual."

"That's already a term," Lenalee tells him. "And you know that."

"Well, all the cool terms are taken! Maybe I'll just slightly change it. Omniersexual."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't have to. It's a new word. It's what I am."

"Okay," Allen laughs. "Whatever."

* * *

><p>He plugs his headphones into his Walkman before putting the cassette tape in and pressing play. It's in the middle of the tape, towards the beginning, but he can't quite tell where. He puts the bulky player in his pants pocket and waits for Tiedoll to pick him up in that dump he calls a vehicle. He leans against a pillar and closes his eyes.<p>

It's actually…good. It certainly doesn't sound like something that Lenalee girl would listen to. She seems like the type to listen to those stupid, gay boy bands.

"You're really cool, you know that?" Comes a familiar voice, barely heard over the headphones. He opens one eye to look at her.

"Glad you approve."

"And you talk like a big kid." She pauses. "Did you have fun at the wedding?"

"No." It was too long. He's never been to a wedding, but five minutes is way too long. There's no way they're usually that long.

"Oh," she tucks her dark hair behind her ear. "It's probably 'cause you didn't have a date, huh?"

"That wasn't the problem."

"That's the only thing I can think of!" She says, throwing her arms in the air. "Because it was a fantastic ceremony. We're gonna be together forever."

"Uh-huh," Kanda says, nodding and turning his music up a little.

"Well when we get our vows renewed next week, you should bring a date. Oh, I have the perfect person!" She nods as well, quickly. "I can't wait to introduce you two now."

"Great," he mutters. She's talking far too loud if he can hear her.

She prattles on for a few minutes before Tiedoll shows up. He walks away from her without another word.

* * *

><p>"I just don't really understand why you don't like the color chartreuse. It is a beautiful color."<p>

"Stop trying to out-gay Allen and Kanda, Lavi," Lenalee says off-handed as she flips through a magazine.

"I'm honored you think I could even begin to attempt that," Lavi smiles, innocently. Kanda wants to rip that smile off his stupid face. Maybe he'll just rip all of Lavi's face off. That might work. Yes. He could do that.

"Oh my god, Kanda's doing his Kanda smile. The one where his lips don't turn up, but he's def' not grimacing! He thinks I'm funny!"

He can't help himself, he snorts.

"And now he's laughing. My life is complete!"

Lenalee laughs, still not looking away from her reading material. _Cosmopolitans_ must be damn interesting. "I'm pretty sure he's actually just making fun of you. In his own Kanda way." That girl has always been able to read him pretty well. He's not surprised she hit the nail on the head.

The idiot puffs his cheeks out and puts his hands on his hips. "You really do look faggish, though, so maybe you're just trying to complete the look by acting gay." Kanda offers.

"First of all, I am offended," Lavi says, mock-offense on his face.

"No you're not." Kanda sighs, leaning back in his chair to survey the cloudless sky. They're sitting on Lavi's porch, well his grandfather's anyway, and the only reason he's able to relax is because the Beansprout's not there and because he doesn't have his maps and his information splayed out in front of him to keep him ticked off.

"No, I'm not," Lavi concedes. "But second of all I am very funny, okay? I'll have you know that in my high school yearbook senior year, I was voted the most likely to –

"Become a fuck-up?" Kanda asks.

"Offend the entirety of the human race by the age of twenty-five?" Lenalee offers.

"No," Lavi deadpans. "Become a comedian."

"That's boring," Lenalee says, taking a sip of her orange juice. "By the way you still have time to accomplish my guess."

"He's already accomplished mine." Kanda shrugs.

"Wow, Yu, thanks. Actually, thanks to both of you guys," Lavi frowns, but Kanda can tell it's fake. It would take a lot more than this bit of shit to get him upset or offended. "I feel the love. I feel it deep in my soul."

Kanda smirks a little, and realizes that when this is all gone, when he's completely immersed himself in defeating the NOAH family and afterwards, when he accomplishes his goal or…doesn't – he really might…miss…it a little bit. It's so easy to live this life, where he doesn't care and where thoughts of NOAH and death and revenge are far from his mind. Where the only thing he has to worry about is his biochemistry tests and whether or not his stupid brothers are going to barge into his house unexpectedly when there's a small, naked white child in his bed. Which sounds worse than it should in his mind, but he doesn't really give a shit.

Maybe, maybe he'll have something like that again.

But he's never been one to delude himself with false hopes.

* * *

><p>Lenalee waves him over with enthusiasm. "Over here, Kanda! I want you to meet my friend, Lavi." Already, Kanda doesn't like him. He's got weird red hair and a stupid looking eye-patch. He's smiling, too. Not a normal smile though; an idiot's smile. "This is your date for the evening," Lenalee smiles.<p>

"No." He says simply before starting to walk away. Lenalee is sure to grab his arm and pull him back before he can get too far away. "It's not even evening time - let me go!"

"Nice to meet you, Kanda..." He trails off, looking for the rest of his name.

Eye twitching, Kanda does his best to breathe in and out calmly. "Kanda Yu."

"Yu. What a fine Oriental name. Bet you're a stand-up guy, being named after someone who has 'the great' following their name and all." Kanda has no idea what this guy is talking about, and his annoyance must show on his face. "Yu the Great? Chinese ruler? He was rad."

"Stop using the word rad, that hasn't been cool since like kindergarten." Lenalee says, rolling her eyes. "Lavi's like, in love with history or something. I don't know. He's _really_ smart."

"The smartest." The idiot nods, smiling.

"I'm ecstatic for you. Wait a moment while I try to contain my joy."

"Oh, Yu, you're so funny," Lavi chuckles, waving his hand at him. Immediately, a growl rips from Kanda's throat.

"Who gave you permission to call me that?"

"God."

"Ugh, whatever," Kanda flips his hair out of his eyes and turns to Lenalee. "You expect me to deal with this idiot throughout the whole ceremony? Damn, girls are crazier than I thought." He eyes Lavi. "Or maybe it's just Americans."

"It's probably just Americans," Lavi shrugs, looking at his fingernails. Kanda is rather inclined to agree. The old man and those 'brothers' of his are really freaking weird as well. "But listen, Yu. What if we don't actually go as a date, but as a pretend one?"

Kanda bristles at the sound of his first name again, but he's slightly, _slightly_, intrigued by Lavi's notion nonetheless. "What do you mean?" He asks after a moment.

"I saw it in this movie. This girl really wanted to go to her friends' wedding, but accidently told them that she was dating someone when she wasn't and they all expected her to come with this dude and well she didn't know what to do and she was freaking out and-"

"Get to the point!"

"So she got somebody to _play_ as her date," Lavi nods. "They weren't really dating, but they pretended and everything worked out in the end. Well, they got married in the end, but that's not important." Lavi waves his hand in dismissal. "Unless you _want_ to get married, that is," Lavi smirks, a glint in his one green eye.

Kanda almost throws up on the spot. "_Hell no_."

"Okay, okay – thought I'd offer. You don't know what you're missing, though."

Kanda scoffs at him, but agrees nonetheless. He doesn't really care what others think, but Lenalee seems to want him to bring someone and as long as the idiot doesn't open his mouth, Kanda doesn't mind the company. The red-head just has to be sure not to say a single damn word.

Unfortunately, as Kanda soon realizes, that's never going to happen.

* * *

><p>The next time he sees Allen, he's surprised not to feel hate or disdain or annoyance at his white hair or red tattoo or stupid accent (that actually sounds a little off, but it's probably just because he hasn't heard it <em>a lot<em> since Christmas, just a few times). He doesn't really know what he's experiencing. He feels almost light, like something that was weighing him down before isn't there anymore. It feels almost like emptiness, but it's not that. His upper torso feels vastly hollow, but something echoes there. He can't place what it is.

Then Lavi says something stupid and the Beansprout laughs and the small thing that was echoing grows until it takes up everything that was empty before. He grimaces at himself, at his chest, at Allen. The white haired boy notices and looks over, lips pursed.

"What'd I do this time?" he grumbles, accent thing with annoyance. Then their eyes meet and Kanda must be going deaf because everyone around them goes completely silent. No, he can feel the wind, his hair blowing in his face, the sound echoing through him. Leaves rustle, birds chirp, but no one is speaking. It's like everyone else in time has stopped, except that's a really stupid notion and he hates himself for thinking it.

He hears Lavi whisper something, finally, and it's to Lenalee. She nods, and then they leave.

Kanda curses, lowly. "Kanda?" Allen asks, walking forward. "What's wrong?" His white eyebrows furrow and Kanda resists every urge to kiss the wrinkle of skin between them. Fucking hell. Fucking fuck. Not this stupid shit again. He has plans. He has vendettas. He doesn't have time for this shit. This was last summer's shit. It's February and Kanda's already cast Allen aside. There's nothing left in the _relationship_ for them. Nothing to salvage.

Nothing left.

Allen takes another step forward, but Kanda stays where he is. Unable to walk away or towards his former lover.

Finally, when Allen's close enough that Kanda can count individual white hairs, he inhales and only manages out, "Fuck you."

Allen tilts his head a bit, almost frowning, but then he smirks and Kanda's seen that look and he loves that look more than anything else but at the same, fuck that. He looks away from Allen, over the top of his head. Stupid Beansprout. Bedroom eyes will never work on his again.

"How are things going?" Allen asks, and his voice is lower than normal. Kanda can't tell if it's faked or real. "You know, school and work."

"As if the red-headed idiot hasn't told you."

"He has," Allen says, voice turning into a whisper. "But I just wanted to hear it from you."

Kanda sighs and goes to look down, but Allen is closer than before and their foreheads meet. All Kanda can see is silver-blue eyes now. Neither of them move, but Kanda feels Allen's labored breath on the bottom half of his face.

"When I asked you what was wrong," Allen says, lips almost, almost grazing his. "Why did you look at me like that?"

Kanda's resolve almost falters. He grits his teeth and mutters out, "Like what?"

"Like you still wanted me."

"The fuck are you-

Before he even finishes his question, Allen leans up and swallows his words with a firm press of lips. Almost immediately after, unable to give a shit, just able to feel that _thing_ in his chest expanding to become so large there is the threat of it escaping, he opens his mouth and closes his eyes. Allen's pressed so close it seems like he's trying to melt into Kanda, trying to become one with him. It's not completely sexual, more sensual than anything else, but Kanda feels blood rushing downward and takes advantage of the situation to push Allen up against the picnic table. It doesn't register in his mind that people might be coming by, that it's around noon and they're in City Park.

Then he feels more wetness than he should and leans back, slowly. Tears stream down Allen's face; Kanda has to look away for a moment before sighing harshly and kissing him again, first his mouth, the hard press of tongues arousing him more than publicly acceptable, and then he moves up to his cheeks, kisses the edge of Allen's eyes, licks at one of his tears before returning to his mouth. Hands clutch at his back, fingernails dig into his spine.

This is stupid. He should definitely get a hold on himself. But…he hasn't seen or touched the Beansprout in months. It's not like he should have, and he shouldn't be now, but he can't really deny that he never stopped wanting this physical aspect. It's dangerous, much too dangerous and that makes it even better. Fuck, he hasn't been this hard in mon-

"Hey!"

At the sound of another human being's voice, remembering they're in _public_, Kanda pulls away sharply.

"You two, keep it clean."

Kanda scoffs at the rent-a-cop, but Allen nods serenely and runs a hand through his white hair. "Sorry, Officer. Won't happen again." His voice is low and he still looks a little sad or some shit, but he's not crying anymore.

The 'officer' nods in return, grimace relaxed a little more now. He can't deny Beasprout has the personality of fucking Hitler. Talk about charismatic. Even with his face inked up like that people take him so fucking seriously, they trust him. It's fucking weird.

He chalks it up to his creepy-ass smile. Maybe it scares people into submission.

No, that's giving him too much credit.

What the fuck ever it is, he's slightly, _slightly_, grateful for it. He doesn't need a fine for public indecency. Again.

When the cop leaves. Allen heaves out a sigh and turns fully to Kanda, close enough so that only their chests touch. He's silent for only a brief moment. "Is this the part where you deny everything that just happened?

_Yes_._ Why the fuck would I ever admit that I willingly kissed your stupid ass?_ _Christmas, that was a special circumstance. I – fuck, that was only because I felt so fucking bad about it all. Shit, I've gotta stop using facial expressions without fucking realizing it. _

"No."

_Fuck._

Allen pauses again, obviously realizing how thin the ice beneath his feet is. "What does this mean?"

_Nothing – it doesn't mean anything. Fuck you. Fuck you and your stupid voice and your stupid hair and eyes and hands and stop being fucking you. _

"I don't know," he says instead. And goddamn, he really doesn't. It's not supposed to mean anything, he doesn't want it to mean anything; he keeps repeating the word 'nothing' in his head, but it feels like a denial. And screw that – he's not gonna be in fucking denial like some school girl. "It doesn't matter though," he continues. "I can't afford any distractions."

"And I'm a distraction."

Unfortunately. "Annoying people are distracting, yes."

Allen scoffs, folding his arms, and Kanda can't help his slight smirk at how fucking feminine the Beansprout looks. With his longer, fair hair and his eyes that are so fucking huge – he could easily pass as a fucking girl. "I'm not…Kanda I'm not gonna give up. But – that doesn't mean I'm going to be actively trying to get you back _all the time_." He gets frantic at the end before throwing his hands in the air and beginning to talk much, much faster."But I mean, you look at me like that and what do you expect me to do-"

"Oh my god, shut up!" Kanda exclaims, putting a hand over the Beansprout's mouth. "I really don't give a shit what you do. I'm not gonna flip a shit or anything because of a fucking kiss. I'm not a girl. It doesn't matter."

Allen's eyebrows furrow. Kanda rolls his eyes and, against his better judgment, removes his hand so the white-haired boy can continue. "Sorry…but you really should keep better track of how you _look_ at people. Whether it's a death-glare or a come hither look, they're really intimidating."

"_Come hither_? What the actual fuck. I would never look at someone like that."

Without a word, Allen relaxes his face, lowering his eyelids slightly and parting his lips. He stares at Kanda right in the eyes and he feels the expression in his abdomen before it registers what he's even doing. That's the relaxed face Allen has just after an orgasm and – shitfuck he hates it almost as much as he loves it.

"I wouldn't look at someone like that," Kanda swallows, looking away.

In his peripherals, he sees Allen get smug. "It's not always nice to be on the receiving end of that look. Why do you think Lavi and Lenalee walked away? We didn't tell them to, but anyone could take one look at you and tell you need some private time."

Kanda growls a bit at the shorter boy. "Whatever." And shit, he's so fucked. If just that little bit could sway him to get with Allen physically, what if the boy actually stated trying? So it's good that he says he's not going to actively try, because if he worked it right, Kanda knows he'd lose. Allen's way too good at the game. At any and every game he'd ever start.

Allen leans against the wooden picnic table Kanda'd almost stripped him on. "Your friends from Japan seem nice." At this, Kanda snaps to attention. "Yeah, I met them. Through Lenalee. Bak Chan is staying at her and Komui's place unbelievably. Even though it's obvious Bak is obsessed with her, he's careful around Komui and apparently they're not actually allowed to be awake and in the house together at the same time. Komui patrols the hallways or something." Kanda almost snorts. "Loufa, though…is she – um – always that awkward?"

"Who the fuck is Loufa?"

Allen raises his eyebrows. "She's with Bak Chan's team. I've only met her, a couple scientists, Bak Chan, and the girl named Fou. The rest of them I haven't met. Um, an older man and then a kid our age. I don't quite remember their names, but apparently they're staying in the heart of uptown at the moment."

Loufa…who the fuck is that? She wasn't with the Chan's when he was there as a child and he never met her when he was in Japan recently. Shit though…Alma. He's going to have to face him eventually. And for some reason he's kind of grateful the Beansprout hasn't met him yet. Hopefully that fucking red-headed idiot and Lenalee haven't either.

Because all of them are gonna fucking side together, become one against him.

Fuck.

"Kanda, are these the people you lived with before you came to America? You never really talked to me about that point in time and-"

"It's none of your goddamn business," Kanda snaps. "It's no one's business and I swear to whatever the fuck's above that I will start fucking shit up if this invasion of my personal life does not stop. You, or that damn Komui or whoever the hell else thinks they have any right to my life. Stop."

Allen gives him an offended look. "Fine, we'll stop caring. We'll leave you alone, Princess. I thought for a second we could maybe be friends and go back to how it used to be, but you're even more closed off than before. You're an asshole, Kanda, and soon enough you won't have anyone on your side." At first, the only thing that really registers in the whole statement is that Allen actually said asshole correctly. For some reason, it really annoys him. That the Beansprout's accent is weakening should make him ecstatic, right? That stupid Brit talk was always stupid and irritating.

Then the rest of it hits him and he isn't sure how to react. It's nothing less than he imagined. He's alone, and he's always gonna be alone. It makes no difference to him whether Allen says it aloud or not, because it was always there, hanging in the open space.

"Do you need a ride home?" Allen says, voice and expression hard. It's obvious he doesn't actually want to sit with Kanda in the car for however long it would take them to get back to his house.

"I'll walk," Kanda responds, turning on his heel. Better not fucking upset the Beansprout any more than he already has. Don't want to inconvenience him in any single fucking way.

Besides, it always ends this way.

With a cruel word and Kanda walking away.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

* * *

><p>He buries his face in his hands and lets out a harsh, shaky sigh. This is getting to be too much, even for him. Hazy-minded, he looks up and runs fingers over his first map. Red lines connect murder location to murder location, drawing out patterns in where and how the NOAH work. Every time he looks at this map, all it does is bring shitty memories. All it does is make him want to curl up in bed and sleep the pain away. But he's stronger than that. It's not just about a face, about proving to other's that he's not weak – it's more about proving it to himself. Because he's the only person in the world who understands he's not as unbreakable as he seems.<p>

His phone buzzes and lights up and he picks it up. It takes a few moments for the letters to right themselves and he sees it's from Alma. Komui had given him Alma's number and apparently vice a versa. The two of them were supposed to be meeting, along with Bak, the next morning. He'll probably just sleep through it, if he can.

He unlocks his phone.

_Are you okay?_

He scoffs. Alright, maybe not the only person in the world.

_Never _

He manages back. He doesn't know why he's being so honest, but he can venture a guess somewhere within in the range of whiskey.

He takes another drag of his cigarette, lit inside the house, and downs two more shots of alcohol. This shit is getting stupid. He's stuck and he realizes it. And he knows why. He isn't progressing because, deep down, he doesn't want to. Yes, he wants the NOAH dead – all of them – and yes he does want to be the one to watch the life drain out of their bodies, but more recently he's just been wanting to crawl up next to a stupid, familiar Brit and sleep for hours and hours. He's losing his resolve – he can feel it slipping away.

He punches his wall, vaguely understanding the pain that tingles up his arm, and draws his hand back, surveying the quickly bruising knuckles. At least he didn't put a hole in the wall.

He just needs to rekindle it, right? Just read the obituaries, look at the crime scene photos he definitely got in a legal manner. But it's been months, and the pain is dulling. It's not white hot and anger-inducing, but light and sad. It's just making him depressed, not pissed. He'd never admit that to even himself were he sober, but fuck it. It's fucking stupid to deny things to himself.

_Give me your address._

_fuck no stop texting me_

_Yu, give me your address. _

_goaway_

_You're not sober, are you?_

_grand deduction Sherlok_

_I believe it's spelled 'Sherlock,' now give me your address or I suppose I'll just have to get it from Komui. I was informed on everything that's been happening lately and you need someone there._

His fingers fumble over the keys on his phone as he relents and gives Alma his address. That's not an empty threat. And the stupid kid isn't actually that stupid. He probably realized Kanda was just going to drink and drink and drink until it all went away and he could go to sleep and pretend he's not an idiot for making himself alone. And then not show up the next day at their – whatever it is, he can't even remember what it is anymore, or for what time.

By the time Alma gets there, he's not even clear-minded enough to hear him knock the first time. He's in the back as well, so he blames it on that and gets up and, not very easily, goes to the door and unlocks it.

It's late – how late he isn't sure – but Alma is illuminated by the streetlights and his friend looks very grown up for a second.

When he sees Alma's expression, he knows he's going to hate himself in the morning. The alcohol is going to loosen his tongue and Alma's going to use that to his advantage. He's going to say all kind of things that he actually means. He's going to try to lie, but it's not going to go over well, and he knows that.

He puts a hand on the doorframe to steady himself and motions towards the inside of his house with his head. "Get the fuck in here."

"Oh, bad move, Yu. You're never supposed to invite a vampire into your house. Now I can come and go as I please."

"Fucking awesome." He rolls his eyes as Alma walks in slowly.

"I can smell the alcohol on your breath from here. Tell me, what is this more about, your father and brother, or Allen? Who I finally got to meet by the way. He's delightful. We're going to be best friends."

"Fantastic." He avoids the question with relative ease.

Alma looks around the area he's in, then makes his way into the living room and sits down. "First of all, don't think you're getting out of that question, but I just want to say something first. Come sit down on this couch before you fall, Silly, and listen."

Kanda complies, only because he doesn't think his pride could handle him falling flat on his face in front of another human being.

"So, I had some time to think after you left and before Bak came and told me we needed to come to America. I – I let my anger get to me and I think I said some things I didn't mean." He frowns and Kanda can just barely see the light pink under his tanner cheeks. "I had just woken up, and hadn't acclimated to everything. It felt like I hated you, but as soon as you were gone and I missed you, I realized that wasn't what it was. You were my best friend, Yu, and I felt – feel – betrayed about what happened, but I think I can forgive you for that. That's what you're supposed to do – forgive, right?"

Kanda thinks he gets most of that. The words all jumble up in his head and it takes him a moment to put them together right, but once he does, he shrugs. "Do whatever the fuck you…want." He shakes his head. He's really far gone. Worse than he was the first night he and Allen kissed. Fuck, he's thinking about it _again_? But he can't stop it. The thoughts all come to him at once, and, vividly, probably more than he should in his state, he remembers that first feel of the white-haired boys lips.

"You seem distracted," Alma smiles. "Listen, I just wanted to say that – that I don't hate you. And that you're my friend, and that you can come to me with anything. Just because you get angry with someone for something, even if it seems ground-shattering, it doesn't have to be the end of anything." Kanda does his best to nod, but he must fail because Alma full on starts laughing at him. "Oh, I've never gotten to see you like this. I better keep you away from the bottle." Kanda gives him a half-assed sneer and growl. "Don't get pissy," Alma smiles. "Now answer my question. I have a feeling your liquid courage will make you unable to lie."

"Fuck off."

"What upsets you more," Alma goes on, as if not hearing him. Maybe he just imagined saying it. "Your foster family's murders, or the fact that you're letting it get to you like that. You're fucking up everything in your life, and you know that, don't you? You'd prefer your old life over all of this."

"I can't just fucking ignore what happened to Daisya and the old man," Kanda snaps back. "It's just going to keep…happening if something doesn't happen. Nobody else is getting anywhere with this. If I don't do it…no one will."

"How do you know? There may be a cop out there right now looking for them. I heard from Komui that there's a whole detective squad on your family's case – well, with all the other NOAH murders, but still. Kanda, you're not alone. You don't have to go at it like this. If you are regardless of what I say, though, at least let me help. We were initially trained for this and I know that's why you're so dead set on going at them kamikaze style, but we were never told to go at this individually. And anyway – what good are you at this without me?" He smirks.

Kanda's getting really tired of hearing that shit. "Fucking – fine! Whatever!" He scoffs and leans back in his chair, feeling exhausted. "I don't give a shit anymore."

Suddenly, he feels a weight next to him and snaps his head to the side to watch Alma squeezing into the loveseat, curled up on him. "I didn't say not to give a shit. Here, use this hug."

"Get the fuck off of me."

"No. Hug me."

"No."

"Hug me."

"Fuck you."

"I wasn't going to take it _that_ far, Yu." And Kanda can just hear that fucking smirk in his voice. Allen did that shit, too. Said something to where Kanda just _knew_ that they were making fun of him. He growls lowly, and pushes Alma off of him. He desires human contact even less than usual right now. Or rather, human contact with anyone but…

Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. And for good measure: fuck.

"Oh, you're blushing, how cute." Alma chuckles, poking his cheek. He goes to bite at Alma's finger, but Alma's faster than him right now. A fucking snail is probably faster than him right now. "So on a scale of one to ten, how much do you miss Allen? I'm curious, because you must be pretty sexually frustrated to be propositioning me."

"You know what I meant when I said that."

"I know," Alma laughs. "I just like getting a rise out of you. I missed it. No but really, answer my question."

"I…refuse."

"Took you a second to remember the word?"

"Oh, fuck _off_. Shit, you're just like him."

"Oh? Is that why you want to fuck me then? Listen, I know you're drunk, but my hair is brown, not white."

Kanda groans. Maybe Alma is a little worse than the Beansprout. Why does he always care about stupid people like this? Lenalee is his only friend that's not completely retarded.

"Well I think I should just let you know, you are never, ever going to find anyone else who loves you as much as that boy does. Ever. He knew me for all of three seconds before he was comfortable enough to start asking questions about you. And I could see it in his eyes, how he loved you. Every time he blinked, he opened his eyes wishing you were with him. When he breathed, he wished it was your breath entering his lungs. He loves you like a love song."

Inebriated as he is, he doesn't catch the joke at the end; he's too busy processing the rest of Alma's words. And it's then that his stupid mouth starts moving without his permission. "I think it hurts too much."

"What does?"

"Seeing how much he loves me and knowing that I don't deserve it. And that one day he isn't going to want me anymore. And that he might have betrayed me, even though I know somehow that he really never did. And that I don't think I'll ever be able to show him how I-" He stops himself before he says something too stupid, too rash.

"How what?"

Alma is just prompting him to talk now. The words are fluid as they spill out of his mouth, nothing planned but nothing needing to be thought about. Because this is how it is, this is how he feels at his base self. And it feels better to talk about it. "How I feel the same way." And there, he's pretty much said it at this point. "How much I really do want him, every second of every day. Even when I say I don't. Even when I lie to myself because I'm supposed to be strong and focused and – and – fuck! Oh, fuck you, Alma. Making me…talk like this…" He rests his head on the back of the chair and closes his eyes. He really wasn't supposed to say any of this to anyone ever, he realizes. This was something for him, but now it's out there. Now another human being knows. And it's just not the same.

"Alright, alright," Alma says softly, smiling. "Come on, I'll let you drink yourself stupid just this once. You deserve it, Yu."

"Fucking right I do…" Alma helps him up, and Kanda semi-leads him to the kitchen.

* * *

><p>When he wakes up the next morning, Alma is pressed tightly to his side. He just lays there for a moment, still actually feeling slightly tipsy, aware that the monster hangover hasn't hit him yet since he was drinking so late into the morning. He can think straight though, and thanks deities abound that they're both completely dressed. Alma, while he tends to act like a child, is responsible. And he, while sexually frustrated because of Allen, yes, would never ever resort to a childhood friend. Still, the warmth is kind of nice, and it's Alma – they went through so much shit together and to be honest, he thinks of him differently from the rest of the world – so he doesn't mind pretending he's still asleep and staying relaxed.<p>

Then he vaguely remembers admitting his powerful feelings for Allen and promptly shoves Alma out of the bed.

"What the fuck?" Alma mutters, awakening with a start.

"You did that shit on purpose," Kanda says, voice hoarse from sleep. "Making me talk like that and bare my fucking soul."

"Oh you know it did you some good," Alma responds, sitting up on the floor and then climbing back into the bed. Kanda promptly shoves him off just once more. "Hey, stop that!" Kanda shrugs and Alma, wearily this time, gets on the bed again. He grabs his phone from the bedside table and checks it, sighing. "Yeah, Bak called a couple times. It's like two-forty. I think we overslept, darling."

"What the fuck ever," Kanda crosses his arms and leans against the headrest as Alma dials Bak's number and waits for him to answer.

"Hey, Bak…no, yeah sorry something came up…yes I know where Yu is…yeah he's fine…" He chuckles nervously into the phone. "We're at his house…because I could…no, no one told me I couldn't roam around the dangerous city at eleven at night…I am a grown lady, I'll do as I please…Baaaaak," he starts to whine and Kanda rolls his eyes. "Yu was feeling sad and I had to comfort him…What? No, sex wasn't involved…that's gross, Bak, don't be that way…stop teasing me, Yu already beat the shit out of me twice this morning…I most certainly do not deserve it…" Kanda smirks at that. He can't hear the other end of the conversation, but he kind of wishes he could. "I feel betrayed by everyone I love…no, yes, I'll be back at the hotel by seven…Um, I'll try and see what I can do, you know how he gets…yeah…alright, bye!" He hangs up the phone and turns to Kanda. "Hey, come with me back to the hotel tonight."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes, you know I always win these."

"Not this time."

"Yes, this time. Come with me to the hotel. If you don't I will not help you with the NOAH or with Allen."

"I don't want your help with either of those things."

"No, but you need my help with both."

Kanda pauses. "No I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't – fuck you."

"I can do this all day, Yu. Well, at least until we have to leave."

"Until you have to leave."

"We."

"You."

"Yes, we, as in me and Yu."

"Oh fucking A – fine! Fine, I don't give a shit."

"See," Alma smirks. "I _always_ win."

The sad thing is that he does.

* * *

><p>"You've gotta be fucking kidding me. This is not what I agreed to."<p>

"Come on, Yu, it's gonna be a lot of fun!" Alma exclaims, pulling on his arm.

"Yeah, Yu," Lavi adds. "A lot of fun." Kanda glares at him, harshly, and crosses his arms. "Come on, you're gonna let him say your first name, but not me?"

"Yes," Kanda replies curtly.

Alma chuckles – it's actually almost a giggle – and slaps him in the shoulder blade. Kanda growls at him in return. "Don't be so mean to your friends. They, after all, put up with _you_."

"It's a daily toil," Allen tells him. Kanda swings blindly behind him, connects with something hard, but it ends up just being a wall since Allen ducked too quickly. He brings his hand back to his chest. That fucking hurt.

"I don't really care to deal with all of y'all's shit today." He snarls, shaking the pain off. He used the hand with the bruised knuckles…

"Do you ever?" Lenalee asks, smiling. "Seriously Kanda, it's like you forget who you hang out with."

"He probably does. Yu never was the smartest cookie in the batch," Alma says playfully, reaching up to ruffle Kanda's hair.

Oh fuck it all. He ducks under Alma's hand and walks into the ballroom. The last time he was in a ballroom was Mardi Gras, but this is for an entirely different reason. Thankfully, he's also not in drag this time. No, this time it's for a stupid party. Bak and the others put it together in order for everyone to 'get to know each other better' but he's not a fucking idiot. This is to spite him. Because he made the stupid fucking decision to make his plans known.

In a lackluster manner, he greets the people there. Some he's met and some he hasn't. There's a girl with braids who's eyes sparkle with she looks at the Beansprout and two male scientists at her side – they seem to go almost everywhere together if they can help it. The white-haired boy, of course, is completely oblivious to how she's acting, even when she's straight up flirting. Alma gives him this look, but Kanda ignores him. What's he gonna do? Tell her to back off? Allen isn't his.

Scoffing, he turns away. In the corner of his eye he notices the old man – what was his name…Zu Mei Chang. Yes, he was apparently the forger of Mugen. They'd been introduced, once. He sits alone, but he doesn't seem to mind that very much. Kanda understand the sentiment. Sometimes being alone is the best thing for the human psyche.

Plopping down in one of the covered chairs, he listens to one-sided conversations aimed at him left and right. He ignores all of them. One of the only things he cares about in this room is busy scarfing down food, oblivious to near everything around him. Ugh, he's disgusting when he eats, but Kanda'd give near anything to overcome his own pride and drag Allen to the nearest bathroom. He misses the soft feel of that skin against his own to an almost obsessive extent. It's all he can think about for the duration of the party – remembering how it was to hold that stupid white-haired beansprout. He's sure to keep his legs crossed as his imagination wanders blindly through his memories.

Everything quiets down an aggravating amount of hours later. It's near midnight when everyone is finally done at the fucking party thing. He would have fallen asleep had he any ability to between Alma and Lavi.

The stupidest thing is that Alma is basically Lavi and the Beansprout morphed into one human. Kind of perverted, extremely senseless, rabid when hungry, and bitchy. He knows how to make a comeback, and he doesn't take anyone's shit at eye-level. Kanda really doesn't understand why he tolerates the idiot better than anyone else. Maybe it is because of everything they went through together, but Alma will always be his closest friend. And he's kind of okay with saying that. Even with all of the shit going on, even with Alma butting in on all of his plans, he's still able to deal with that.

"So, I think we should stop somewhere and get something to eat on the way home," Allen says, walking up to Kanda and Lenalee. Lenalee had joined him at the table about an hour ago, her head rested on her arms and looking ready for sleep.

"You've gotta be fucking joking…" Kanda mutters, in true disbelief. He's not sure why he's so taken aback by Allen's statement – they were in a relationship for months and Kanda's seen how he eats when he's starving – but it's just hard to imagine a human being that eats as much as this one. He ate half the food at the party.

"Oh, I'm kinda hungry, too," Alma says, strutting up with his arms behind his back. "My buddy Al and I need _sustenance_."

Lavi pops up behind them, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. They both smile up at him stupidly. "Let's go to _McDonald's_."

"Alma!" Bak calls from the entrance to the ballroom. "Come on, you have to get back to your room!"

"But I wanna stay with my _friends_," Alma whines, wrapping his arms around Allen's waist. Allen laughs happily and pats Alma on the head. The darker haired boy pouts and gives Allen something like puppy dog eyes. "Don't let them take me."

Something about the scene makes Kanda less agitated. It's almost…heart-warming to see the two of them together like that. Or some shit like that. If Kanda got those kinds of emotions.

"Sorry, Alma," Allen smiles. "But we can get together within the next few days when I'm not busy and hang out."

"I'll have to see when I'm not busy with Yu, but yeah, most definitely!"

"Busy with Yu?" Lavi asks. "You have plans on spending that much time with him?"

"Yeah." Alma nods. "Because I'm going to help him…" He must catch the glare Kanda's giving him. "With his gonorrhea."

Kanda literally has to drop his head into his hands to stop himself from sobbing at the sheer amount of stupidity in the room. He takes back everything he thought about Alma.

Allen chuckles nervously. "Well that's unfortunate."

"He's lying. And that's the stupidest shit I've ever heard. He's helping with my move."

"Move?"

"Yes. Move. I plan on living in another location within the next few months."

"Wait – already?" Lavi asks. "I mean, I didn't think you were selling all your shit for _that_ reason."

"What'd you think it was for, heroine?"

"Well at this point that seemed like a more viable option," Lavi shrugs, but he's kidding. He knows Kanda would never do heroine. He has a semi-pathological fear of needles after all the shit he went through as a kid.

"Alma!"

"Oh, I'm coming!" Alma screams back. "Fuck, don't get those silky panties in a bunch," he mutters, rolling his eyes. "Well, I'll see you guys later! Bye, Yu! Love ya." He blows Kanda a kiss; Kanda grimaces in return.

A loud laugh follows the dark haired boy out of the room.

* * *

><p><strong>...Whoops... Um...yeah you guys...so this happened...I kind of...just...didn't update for a little while...I feel really bad about it and everything, but akfafaoifjaiofaioj school can just go fuck itself. I just changed my major to Business and Accounting was like, "LOL I'mma fuck you in the ass with no lube." But I'm not gonna sit here spewing excuses. I'll just say one thing:<strong>

**I'm sorry, y'all...I'll do my best to update more than twice a year from now on. **


	6. Chapter Five

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

"Lenalee. No."

"_Come on, Kanda, when have I ever asked you for a favor like this? I really need you to do this for me. If Brother finds out he'll…"_

Probably just die. Just lie down on the floor and cease to breathe.

"March, 2010."

"_March, 2010? Kanda how am I supposed to remember…oh – oh okay. Right. Listen that was different. I _needed_ the tampons and I couldn't exactly walk out of the bathroom and go get them myself. Anyway, this is much more important." _ She pauses. "_Please_?"

Right now he kind of hates Lenalee for making him care about her so much. She's been his friend for years and years now, and he knows he can't say no to her when she pleads for something. It's one of his only weaknesses.

"Ugh, _fine_. But you owe me."

"_Definitely! Oh thank you so much, Kanda!"_

The line goes dead before he can even push the 'end call' button and he growls sharply.

"What was that about?" Alma asks, legs kicked up on the couch in his back room. In his hands is a file of some sort – Kanda can't tell what it's about from where he is, but it's probably a case file on one of the members of the NOAH. Alma is of the firm belief that one must know his enemy intimately before doing anything too rash. It really is a good idea, Kanda must admit, but it wasn't easy getting those. One of these days he's just going to get arrested out of nowhere for all the shit he's done.

"Lenalee," He growls. "She needs me to pick her something up from the store. Why didn't she call that fucking beansprout? She knows I don't have a car."

"Do what I do – public transportation," Alma nods.

"And how many STD's did you catch on the way here again? New Orleans public transportation is fucking stupid. I just walk everywhere."

"Doesn't Lenalee live on the opposite side of the city?"

"Fuck…yeah she does…"

"Well I see two solutions to this," Alma smirks. "One, we call Lavi down all the way from LSU to drive us to a store for this mysterious item. Or, two," his smile widens even more. "We call our favorite little white boy."

Kanda groans as Alma pulls out his phone and hits a few buttons before pressing it to his ear. "These little rented pay as you go phone things are great. Yay, America!"

"Japan has them too…"

"I know," Alma nods. "I just wanted to say 'yay, America!'" He pauses for a moment. "Hey, buddy! Nah – nah, hey listen, are you busy right now?...Oh, you're at a lesson?...Yeah, Yu and I need a ride…It is for Lenalee! How'd you know? Are you psychic?...Oh, she texted you and asked…no I don't know what it's for – Yu, what's it for?"

"…birth control."

"Oh, righteous! He said birth control."

"_WHAT_?" Kanda easily hears Allen's screech through the cell phone.

"Why's he so fucking torn up? For fuck's sake she's almost…twenty…shit…her birthday…" Kanda trails off, running a hand through his hair.

"What?" Alma asks, looking over at Kanda.

"Her birthday is tomorrow…"

"Oh, harsh," Alma laughs. It's then that Kanda realizes Alma still talks with slang no one actually uses in real life anymore. He constantly forgets Alma was in a coma for years upon years. "Right, yeah….oh you will?...Thanks so much, man!...Yeah, talk to you later…you hang up…no – _you_ hang up…oh, Allen, sweetie, I can do this all da-" Kanda snatches the cell phone out of Alma's hand and ends the call himself. "Hey…" Alma pouts. "You made me lose."

* * *

><p>"I still can't believe I'm skipping my lesson for this."<p>

"Well think about the alternative."

"I'd rather not."

"Well," Alma says, doing his best to cross his legs in the confined space of the back seat. "Then this had to be done. Lenalee is not a flaming homosexual like either of you – if she has sex with someone and a condom breaks or something, there's the risk of getting pregnant. I was in a coma for eleven years and I know that."

"And you think I don't?" Kanda asks. "I'm a fucking biology major. I think I understand how the reproductive system works. Doesn't mean I like this either."

"Well, I'm not a biology major, but I'm not stupid," Allen frowns. "I'm actually quite smart, and I understand how it all works as well. It's just…awkward to think about Lenalee like that."

"What, that's she a very attractive sexual active female?"

"Yes," Kanda and Allen both say at once, and Kanda thinks that's been happening far too often lately.

"Well, awkward things happen sometimes," Alma nods. "Allen, have I ever told you about the first time I found Yu mastu-"

Kanda turns around in the small front seat and puts his hand over Alma's mouth so quickly he hurts his back.

"Oh my god," he hears Allen say from the front seat. "Please get your ass out of my face, Kanda. I'm trying to drive."

Kanda growls, but nonetheless removes his hand from Alma's mouth. "Probably isn't the first time his ass was in your face." Kanda just decides to slap him as hard as he can.

"This is officially the most uncomfortable car ride of my life…" Allen mutters, shaking his head.

* * *

><p>After they get the contraceptives, with a little help from the calm and collected Alma Karma, they crowd into the Supra. "Allen…is this your car?" Alma asks, getting in the front seat this time. Kanda has to fold his legs awkwardly to get into the back, but Alma's a bitch and apparently 'called' front seat.<p>

"Hmm…?" Allen pauses, turning the radio on to 92.3 and turning the sound low. Kanda is mildly surprised at that, too…since when has the Beansprout liked rock music? Actually, if he thinks about it, he – doesn't really know much at all about Allen. Just the basic things about his past – nothing really about his likes or dislikes except that he really likes food, blowjobs, and eighties movies and that he kind of hates…nothing. Well, he knows he really dislikes the normal things, like throwing up and FOX news, but not much past that. "No, it's my Godfather's," he says, backing out of the parking spot. "But, um, he hasn't really been around a lot lately, so I use the car…"

"Not around a lot?" Kanda asks before he can stop his curiosity. "If I fucking remember correctly, all he used to do was sit on the couch and drink whiskey."

"I know," Allen nods, looking serious. "But, um, ever since that incident…you know…the accident…he's been out more than in. To be honest, I don't even think he's in Louisiana right now considering the last phone call I got from him."

"Why the fuck didn't you think to tell us this?" It probably has to do with the fucking NOAH and the Beansprout didn't think it was useful information?

"Who, Kanda? You and Alma? I _did_ tell Lenalee and Lavi, and I was going to tell you at City Park since that was just after I got the call, but if you remember correctly, you fucking walked away, so excuse me."

Alma turns in his seat, "What's he talking about?"

Kanda decides to utilize this exact moment to stare out the window. He doesn't say anything, because he knows the Beansprout will bitch about him anyway. "Kanda's kind of an ass, that's what I'm talking about," Allen mutters. Kanda rolls his eyes. Kind of at himself actually, since it still bothers him that Allen's accent is settling. It's still there, it's always going to be there, but being in America so long is making him pronounce words differently and it just feels weird. "He doesn't know what he wants so he's taking it out on my feelings, lucky enough for me. I've gotten tired of actively trying because he just does what he thinks is shittiest. I mean, who kisses someone and then just walks away?"

"Hey, jackass, you kissed me first."

"You kissed me _back_."

"What was I going to do? Sit there and let you attack my fucking face? I don't think so. I don't remember taking a vow of abstinence when we broke up."

"I think the whole 'breaking up' thing just automatically involves abstinence from that person that you dumped."

"Dipshit, let me repeat my earlier statement since you're too fucking stupid to get it – _you kissed me first_. You broke that rule first."

"The rule doesn't apply to _me_ – I was the one who got left behind."

"You fucking hypocritical, fake-ass motherfuck-"

"Wow, and this is normal, huh? Sex must have been _mind-blowing_," Alma cuts in, smirking. "Listen, guys, I don't want to play marriage counselor – who am I kidding, of course I do – but maybe the issue here isn't that Allen wants the two of you to get back together and Yu is just a horny bastard, but, you know, that you both are," he jokes.

"That was so insightful," Allen deadpans. "Have you considered a career in psychology?"

Alma's smirk widens, "You wanna play Pysch major? Okay, here we go." He clears his throat, and Kanda just buries his face in his hand because Alma is always fucking right. It doesn't matter what the fuck comes out of his mouth, it is always fucking right…

"Let's start with Mr. Grinch back there. Yu's a twenty-one year old _boy_ with a vendetta that's been brewing for years and years, since well before his father was murdered. He has a bit of an inferiority complex when it comes to relationships, that you can tell from all the free love he's had going on his whole life. Sex is how he feels on top of things, and I don't _just_ mean that sexually. I've heard about all his, what – six I think – past lovers and how, you know what, he's never had a lick of concern for any of them. He enjoys the feeling of being wanted, and I mean, who doesn't, but he takes it to another level – he doesn't have any _self_-worth, so he looks to other people who idolize him for his appearance, since he himself can't see past his ugly interior. Even having people who platonically love him, it's not the same thing. He feels like they're obligated to, right?" He looks at Kanda, but doesn't wait for a response, probably knowing he isn't going to get one. "Even when he was a kid he had a terrible image of himself and never ever accepted the love and caring from his friends and guardians. I mean, obviously at that time he wasn't hiding behind sex, but he was like, eight, so let's forgive him just this once."

The car is silent once Alma is finished talking. Allen just blinks wildly in the front seat, turning down the street that'll take them to Lenalee. Kanda is trying to process everything Alma's just said because while it pisses him the fuck off beyond any reasonable doubt that the brown-haired boy said those things, it's mostly because he's abso-fucking-lutely correct.

"Now, I'm not finished. In how this relates to _Allen_. Yu, as I stated, is a boy. A scared little child," Kanda growls at him harshly. "Now, now. Down, boy, I think at this point everyone can see that. He's pretty much throwing himself into his NOAH project, not wanting to let anyone in because he's so fucking scared that he's _not_ going to survive that he doesn't wanna let himself stay close to anyone. Because it hurts him too much. And Allen, he, you know, loves you more than air, so he needs to keep you further away than everyone else. He just can't seem to physically stay away from you because of how much he wants you."

"Fuck you," Kanda snarls, with so much acid in his voice he's surprised it doesn't corrode his tongue. "You're really fucking off-base." Kanda isn't _that_ afraid. He's not. He wouldn't be. He was trained for this – trained not to be scared.

"Am I? How?"

"I'm a grown man – and I've already accepted my fate. I'm probably not going to survive, no, but I have nothing left to live for after they're all dead anyway. I don't give a shit."

"No, Yu," Alma tells him. "You're _trying_ to have nothing left to live for. That's why you treat Allen like shit. Subconsciously you think he'll just walk away and go be happy with someone else, which will _kill_ you, but it's worth it since you'll be dead soon anyway." He shrugs. "I know you. You can't hide from me. Allen I can't analyze as much, but you're an open book to me." They've reached Lenalee's house. Komui's car isn't here, but that doesn't mean he's out. "Now, let's move to Allen-"

The car idles in the drive way, and Kanda moves to immediately bolt out with the prescription, but then he hears Allen whisper, "Is all that true?" They both ignore that Alma was about to start his stupid analysis on the Beansprout. Kanda almost can't deny he's curious, but he can't sit here and listen to this shit about him. He's going to freak the fuck out on someone if he doesn't get out of the vehicle.

He pauses. "Of fucking course not." And then climbs completely out and nearly runs into the house to get away from that car.

* * *

><p>"Oh guys," Lenalee laughs. "The birth control wasn't to actually - you know, control any birthing - it's just to regulate me."<p>

"As it is you're lucky to leave the house," Lavi smirks. "Remember when Komui found out about your 'husband' in like second grade - the wedding Kanda and I went on our first date to!"

"...what?" Allen asks. "There was so much in that statement that made no sense to me."

Kanda groans, deeply.

"Oh," Lenalee giggles. "Right, Allen sometimes it feels like you've always been with us. Right around the time that Lavi and I met Kanda, I was – uh – engaged to this guy who was a good bit older than me. Like. Ten. It was intense. We got married on the baseball field," she sighs, happily. "Where have all the old school romances like that gone?"

"You didn't even know his last name," Kanda grumbles.

"No, but he bought me ice cream as a wedding gift, and when we renewed our vows he told me he'd love me forever. Which was until like two hours later, but it was still _romantic_."

"Sounds like it," Alma nods, crossing his legs and leaning back on her couch. "Ally-kins, don't you need to go back to class?"

Suddenly, the Beansprout's face goes from contented and _pretty like a girl_ to horrified. "I…I completely forgot. What time is it?" He takes out his phone and groans. "It doesn't even matter now. It's like twenty minutes into my last lesson of the day. This is fantastic…"

"Just tell them you couldn't really sit on a piano bench because Yu fucked you too hard last night," Lavi shrugs. Alma points at him in agreement.

"No." Allen says simply, with a stern voice. After a moment he sighs and shrugs. "Well, it does no good to worry about it now…"

"That's right," Lenalee smiles, nodding and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Now, who's hungry? Besides Allen of course, because our little baby is _always_ hungry." She shakes him a bit and he furrows his eyebrows and puffs out his cheeks. Kanda scoffs at the expression.

"Pizza," Alma Karma says. "When it doubt – pizza. Because the best thing about pizza is that you can save what you don't eat and it will always be delicious later."

"Not that there will be anything left to save with the Beansprout around," Kanda sneers.

Allen sneers back, "Go play in traffic."

"Damn, Al," Lavi laughs. "Gettin' violent, huh? Is Yu rubbing off?"

Allen shrugs and looks at Lenalee. "You know what I like."

She laughs, "When it comes to food, of course!"

* * *

><p>Kanda scoffs harshly and crumples up another piece of paper before pelting it at the map on his wall. This shit is getting ridiculous. Even with Alma's help, he feels like he's at a dead end. He's mapped out their routes – pinned down the crime scenes where the bodies were found – and has read each and every one of their character profiles. Still, he has no idea of what they're going to do. Or even, really – what they are doing. It seems as though they're going after the generals from Desert Storm, but then again, it could all be a cover-up to get to Allen. They're fucking nonsensical on the best of days, how is he supposed to be able to read their moves?<p>

He's getting tired of all this fucking planning. All he wants is to go and rip out their throats. The Beansprout knows where their hideout is (though it's very possible they've moved.) All of this shit he's going through is starting to get tiring.

He just wants it all to be over.

And like before, another part of him is telling him to just let it be, but he really cannot do that. The part of him screaming that this is a suicide mission is very easily overcome by his generalized pride and even, remarkably, worry. Because, though he'd never admit this aloud, if he doesn't kill the NOAH, what are they going to do to the rest of the generals? To his family? To Allen? If he doesn't stop them there's going to be a never-ending loop of death and destruction. And he's already going fucking crazy; he doesn't need anything else helping him along.

He hears a knock on the door and wearily stands up and makes his way towards it. Alma's probably come over again to bother him, which he doesn't always mind at first, but it always quickly turns into agitation.

He opens the door, and on pure reflex goes to slam it shut. But the white-haired boy stops him. He walks in without even asking and then says, "Alma told me everything. Show me."

It feels weird and surreal and fucking stupid to have the Beansprout in this room. It was different with Alma because he was so third-party to the personal stuff. Allen being here almost makes Kanda feel…awkward…

It's infuriating.

"I really didn't think you were going through all this trouble," Allen says, running a finger along a red string from Carondelet to South Canal. "You never seemed to be this patient."

"I've done what I needed to," Kanda grumbles, wondering why he even let the stupid kid in the room to begin with. He should have just denied everything and kicked him out. He lets out a sigh. "Where was their hideout?"

"Here," Allen points after a moment of looking. "Actually…not too far from where Yeegar was killed."

Kanda purses his lips and picks up a pin, pushing it into the board with relative ease. Honestly, though, the serious of maps and lines and articles are starting to become so cluttered he can't actually read any street names or anything – he just has to go off of his memory. It's getting annoying.

"Hey…" Allen starts, and there's a tone to his voice that sounds so intrigued that Kanda can't help but look. He's leaning against the desk, holding a file in his hands that he'd apparently just picked up. Flipping through it, his white eyebrows are furrowed and his teeth nibble on his bottom lip. It's disgustingly distracting.

But Kanda can't deny his curiosity.

"What?"

"I…was just thinking. What are the NOAH _really_ after?"

"You, dumbass," Kanda sneers, crossing his arms.

"No, I mean, what's their deal as a…mob family or whatever. They've existed for a long time, right? Passed their name through generations? I'm only a side quest; the generals were only side quests. What's their main goal as a group?" He flips Tyki Mikk's file shut and tosses it on the desk haphazardly. "They don't make any sense to me. It's not as though they're just a family of murderers – a group like that would never last this long. They've got to have a cause of some sort. Like, a generalized purpose or ambition."

Sighing, Kanda concedes to that. He turns back to his map and lets his eyes follow the sharp curves of red twine. "That makes some sense."

Then, suddenly, Allen is right next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Kanda can nearly feel the warmth radiating off of him. "I can do that sometimes, you know. Make valid points."

Kanda almost wants to laugh, he snorts instead. "Whatever, Beansprout." He keeps his eyes fixedly on the map, as if carving into his mind. As if he hasn't already a million times. After a moment, Allen reaches up and pulls out a push pin, moves to set it on the desk behind them. "What the fuck are you doing?" Kanda snarls, grabbing his hand and snatching the pin back. "You know how long I've been fucking working on this shit, for you to just take it apart?"

Allen rolls his eyes. "Well, maybe if you'd done it right the first time, I wouldn't have to fix it for you."

"What are you talking about?"

"Let go of my hand and I'll show you."

As if Allen suddenly caught fire, Kanda snatches his hand away. "Show me what?" He snarls, but the Beansprout simply shakes his head and evens out the piece of the map he'd been surveying. Grabbing a black marker from a messy table next to him, he crosses out a large 'X' a couple blocks down from where the pin had been. "Do you want to die? Is that why you came over today? Some kind of European suicide technique? Stop fucking around!"

"For Christ's sake, Kanda, shut up! Jesus, look!" He points at the 'X' harshly, jabbing his finger against the paper and nearly ripping it. "Look right here! At the intersection of Canal and Iberville! This may not mean anything to someone who studies flowers, but I study music. And in music theory, there's something called a tonic chord. It's where everything starts and where everything finishes. Now look at where Tiedoll was murdered, where Daisya was murdered, where the Banker and the Security Guard were murdered. Maybe it's because you're drunk all the time or whatever, but I find it hard to believe that after all this time you didn't see _this_ goddamn pattern!"

He's not sure of how to react for a few seconds, his brain taking time to catch up with what Allen's actually said since it spent most of the outburst catching the way Allen's eyebrows furrow or the way his ears turn pink when he's mad or the way his chest heaves as if he's hyperventilating. But then he catches up, and a pure white anger flutters through him too quickly for him to push down. But he's not angry at Allen.

"Fuck…"

The white-haired boy inhales deeply. "I don't know if this means much. Sometimes songs' endings vary from the tonic, but it's worth a shot. That pin you had there, off of Carondelet, was close. You probably noticed something, but didn't delve into it. Seriously, I'm going to bring Alma in here and toss out all the alcohol. You're gonna turn into Cross at this point."

"I don't give a shit about that," he snarls, but it's half-hearted – he's too focused on what Allen said. If this intersection means anything at all – if it brings him a step forward in his investigation, maybe…he's been in a slump so long that maybe…

Allen sighs. "Like I said, I don't know if this means anything at all. But it's got to be more important than individual crime scenes. The NOAH are…systematic. They have rules and signals, and I bet they have houses all over this city for them to hide out in. I bet those are systematic, too. If we can go off of where they took me, and maybe…try to match it up with this intersection, we can find another one. Maybe a main one. I dunno," he scratches the back of his head, ruffling his hair. "It's kind of a long shot, but…"

"Better than nothing," Kanda grumbles, moving a piece of hair from his eyes. Maybe he should clip it back again? But no, the fucking Beansprout would probably say something. He doesn't need any more shots to his pride.

"Is that bothering you?" Allen wonders, smirking. "Maybe you should get a haircut or something."

Kanda rolls his eyes. "You're one to fuckin' talk. Don't tell me no one's been mistaking you for a girl?"

Allen blushes a bit, and Kanda wants nothing more than to not find it attractive. But you can't always get what you want. "I've been meaning to get a trim," Beansprout mutters. "But I just don't have the time. I'm always busy practicing, and when I'm not busy practicing, the rest of my time is busy being monopolized by Lavi and Lenalee – which I don't mind at all, I adore them, but…"

Scoffing, Kanda runs a hand through his hair. "Sit down."

"I'm sorry?"

"Sit," He repeats, snarling, and puts his hands on Allen's shoulders, pushing him to a fold out chair a few feet away. Confused, but obedient he sits on the chair and looks up at Kanda. The way his dark bottom lashes, a sharp contrast to his pale skin and hair, flutter against his cheeks is arousing, if only because it's reminiscent the way they look during a blow job. "Stay here," is all he can grumble out as he nearly bolts from the room and towards the bathroom.

He must be sick. It must be a kind of illness, or a disease. There's no other explanation for his obsession with that stupid little kid. Maybe he tried some English black magic or some shit. Some kind of reasoning. Anything. This is getting unmanageable. It's beginning to reach a point where he can't even function without thinking of Allen. He hates it. It's awful. Whatever these stupid feelings are, it's awful. What he said to Alma, he meant it – he meant every word.

But he still doesn't know what all that means.

Picking up a pair of sheering scissors from his bathroom, he takes a long look in the mirror.

There's no point in getting existential now, he doesn't have time for that bullshit. But.

What'll happen if he doesn't finish by the end of the summer? What happens when it's all over? Will he still be able to go after them with any ferocity after Allen's with them as well? He meant everything he said to Alma, so…where does that leave him?

Gritting his teeth, he slams his hand down on the countertop, trying to reign in his anger. This is all so stupid! Why did that damned kid have to even _come_ to America! Why couldn't he have just stayed in fucking Europe, and go be happy and gay over there!? He's ruined everything. Everything. It used to be fine. Alright. He could get through his day to day toils and the pain of loss by pretending it wasn't there, but this is different. Allen is still alive, and he wants nothing more than to keep that true. When revenge in on your mind and the person you cared about is already dead – it's a done deal. If you die, it doesn't matter. Because whoever you cared about most is dead anyway, and maybe, at the least, when you die you don't have to be alone anymore. But what happens when everything is for someone who's alive?

Everything…?

No, not everything is for that stupid Beansprout, but he can't deny that _some_ of it is. What kind of person has he turned into? This isn't like him. He doesn't mind being crude and rude and having people hate him. He actually prefers it. So what right did that stupid little white-haired kid have to butt into his life and change everything?!

"Kanda?"

The sound of said white-haired kid's voice brings him out of his harsh contemplations. He's calling him from downstairs. Kanda finds his feet moving before his mind can stop them.

"What took you so long? Why did you make me just sit here and…are those scissors?" Allen shrinks in his chair a bit. "Don't shank me with them, please."

Kanda scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Don't get stupid. Sit straight." He moves to stand behind Allen, setting the scissors down on desk and pulling Allen's hair back. "If you move, I'll cut it all off."

He's still mad, still angry from his little internal outburst, but he forces his hands to stop shaking. Allen hums in agreement.

Why is he doing this? Sure, he _can_ do it. He's cut his own bangs loads of times, even trimmed all of his hair when it was getting a bit too long, but that's because he hates going to hair salons. Allen can deal with hair salons, he just hasn't. So why is he even bothering to do this when he knows he's conflicted?

He notices his hands are shaking again when he goes to reach for the scissors, and he knows he's still pissed at himself. He should be pushing Allen away, especially now, after what he was telling himself in his bathroom. That should have been enough for him to put his foot down.

But it wasn't.

Why does it feel like there will never be enough? Even with his slight suspicions and doubts about Allen, he still can't make himself say no. This kid who might be on the other side, he's inviting him into his back room and telling him all his plans.

White hair falls to the ground slowly, and the room is encased in total silence. Neither of them dare to move or make a sound; the Beansprout probably doesn't want him chopping his hair up into pieces, and Kanda doesn't really have anything to say to him anyway. Everything he could say, he refuses to.

It feels like hours, brushing his fingers through Allen's messy hair, cutting off a few centimeters on the sides and in the back. And then he moves to cut Allen's bangs; they must be bothering him. Kanda's are just as long and they're annoying as shit. But the boy just sits there, eyes closed, face tilted up slightly as though waiting for a kiss.

Kanda straightens out the long bangs, cutting off a good bit so they're completely out of his eyes, and then snipping off a little on the sides again. He doesn't really care if it's even, but he knows Allen will. And for some reason that makes him check.

He's never cut another person's hair before, only his own, but it's not awful. He can be a very focused person when he wants to be, and he enjoys the symmetry it can bring.

But all that enjoyment is tossed out the window as soon as Allen opens his eyes. Kanda's still too close. Much too close. It's dangerous how close he is, trying to make sure Beansprouts bangs are even. He didn't realize, but he can _taste_ Allen's breath. They stay like that for a few seconds, totally quiet, and the desire to lean forward and kiss the white-haired boy is powerful. But he has some amount of will left. He can still muster up a small amount of pride.

He leans back, wiping a piece of white hair off his arm. "There. You're welcome."

"Ah," Allen pauses, his face pink. "Thanks. Um, I guess that was for showing you that intersection, right?"

"Yeah," Kanda returns, not looking at Allen. He's focused on the desk. Too focused. He knows it looks forced, but that's not stopping him from doing it.

"Liar," Allen mutters under his breath, perhaps so low Kanda wasn't intended to hear it. Liar? How does Allen have any right to call _him_ a liar? There are a few moments where nothing is said at all, and then, "Hey, you have any food here?"

"No. I live off of whiskey and cigarettes."

"I could almost believe that," Allen chuckles, and Kanda hears that smirk. Hears that patronizing expression. "I promise I won't wipe you out, okay? Just a little snack."

"Your snacks could feed all of Africa for a week."

"Don't be insensitive. Maybe a day."

Kanda abruptly feels all of the tension leave him – his shoulders feel light and his anger is completely gone. And he laughs. He doesn't laugh like Allen laughs or like Lenalee laughs – it's not _really_ laughing even. But he knows the Beansprout can tell his softs exhales of breath are out of amusement.

It's a sudden thing. Very sudden. And it's the best he's felt in months.

"Right, well, I'll be back in a few minutes. Do you still have all that 'soba' from your birthday?"

"I threw that shit out ages ago."

"How unfortunate. Well, I'll compromise."

"Don't doubt it," he grumbles, but he's amused. Feels that enjoyment in the core of his being. It's not what he should be feeling, not what he necessarily wants to be experiencing, but he can't stop it. It's warm and feels like a familiar something that returned after a long time away.

When Allen's out the room, he sits down in a loveseat next to the desk, across from the fold-out chair the Beansprout was sitting in moments ago.

He closes his eyes, fatigue washing over him in waves, making him sleepier than he'd like. But it's the first time in a while that he hasn't had to make himself pass out from drinking just to get to sleep, so he'll take it. Even if the Beansprout is still in his house.

Just for a moment…

But just as he's drifting off to sleep, his eyes snap open. There is the unmistakable feel of soft lips against his own, and that's not okay. Instinctively, his arms reach out to grab the small white haired boy pressed against him and push him away. "What the fuck are you doing?" He was supposed to be in the kitchen, wasn't he? Eating? Had Kanda fallen asleep and some amount of time passed? But he doesn't actually remember falling asleep. He just remembers the start of it and then being startled awake.

Allen looks remarkably arousing right now, though. Perhaps it's the low-lighting, or the fact that he's straddling Kanda's lap and Kanda can definitely feel an erection pressing against his. Either way, it's distracting. "I'll give you three guesses," the Beansprout returns furtively, situating himself so that he's able to bend down and give Kanda's neck a quick nibble.

"Get off'a me!" Kanda snarls, but it's severely half-hearted. He's honestly not sure if he's going to be able to resist if Allen doesn't back the fuck up now. "Go stuff your face with food or something. Read a newspaper!"

"What?" Allen mutters, his lips grazing Kanda's ear. "I couldn't hear you over your heartbeat." Beansprout grinds his hips forward and there's some explosion going off in his lower abdomen that needs to desist. Every inch of his body is covered in flames, his skin so hot that he's sure he's going to melt if he doesn't get out of his clothes and into a cold shower.

Cool hands wander under his shirt, pressing against his stomach and moving up to brush his nipples. He can feel them hardening under Allen's soft and skillful fingers; they're not at all calloused like his are. "Fuckin'…stop…" Kanda tries again, but it's so weak it's laughable, and if he wasn't in such a state, if he didn't obviously want it so much, he'd probably hate himself. He kind of does anyway.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Allen asks, removing his hands and leaning back. "It sure doesn't seem like it." But as he leans back in to kiss Kanda again, there is the definite sound of a piano playing. It's light and airy – almost like background music, but there's the question of _where the fuck is it coming from_?

It starts to get louder after a moment, picking up speed and intensity, but it's not intrusively so. Unsure of why his focus is on the music and not the boy straddling his lap, he goes to wrap his arms around Allen's waist, when he realizes there's no Allen there at all. And the light has gotten much brighter all of a sudden. It's as though his consciousness has skipped, as though he lost some amount of time…

And once he stands up, and realizes how hard he is, he realizes it was just a dream.

* * *

><p><strong>I am not sorry that I am not sorry for that.<strong>

**Well lookie here. An update that didn't take six months. Isn't that wonderful? And hopefully chapter six will be out before July is over. Yeah. Yeah it definitely should be. I already have about half of it written. **

**Anyway, thank you guys again for all of the amazing support you give me and all of the happy little feelings your reviews bring. You guys honestly make me so happy it's hard to breathe sometimes :) **


	7. Chapter Six

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six <strong>

He should have gotten rid of that fucking piano ages ago. He had planned to have it sold by now.

Uncomfortably, he straightens out his shirt and runs a hand through his bangs. He's not sure of what to do – it's not like he can just jerk off with the Beansprout one room over slamming his hands down on keys, and it's not like he's going to proposition him. Sighing, he decides upon a shower, as it's the closest thing to relief he's going to get.

He passes the room with the piano as he walks towards the stairs, and the door is completely ajar, almost as if the person occupying the room had simply forgotten to close it behind them. Or just didn't care enough.

Allen's back is to him, so he's not too scared to stand there for a moment and watch.

The melody he's playing feels familiar to him, but not in the sense that it's really a song he knows. Or even a song he's fully heard before. Maybe it was a song the Beansprout had played before they broke up? He's not all that informed on instrumental music, so it's possible it's just some piece he enjoys.

After a few seconds, he scoffs and continues making his way towards his upstairs bathroom, careful not to let the music bring him back to the days of High School.

* * *

><p>When he steps out, the first thing he does is ring his hair out. It's so damn long and thick that it'd never dry if he didn't. Water drips heavily on the floor as he walks to his cabinet, and, pulling out a towel, he proceeds to dry himself off to the best of his ability.<p>

At least he's not hard anymore.

But his shower was still probably abnormally long, and if Allen had even realized that he was in there, he most like would have started to get suspicious at the fifteen minute mark. Even he knows that Kanda likes to jump in and out of the shower – he just washes his hair and his body and he's done. There's no dawdling.

So at twenty-five minutes, any semi-intelligent person would start to wonder.

And as stupid as the Beansprout is, at the same time, Kanda has to admit that he is _semi_-intelligent.

He grabs his dirty clothes then and wraps his towel around his waist, opening the door and making his way to his room for something fresher to lounge in. Even if he's not really trying to impress anybody, he still doesn't want to get exceedingly disgusting.

As soon as he opens the door to his room though, he stops. There, at his record player, is Allen Walker.

"What the fuck are you doing in my room?"

"Hm?" The Beansprout starts, not focused on him, but looking at his vinyl. "I just got a bit nostalgic, ya kn-" he pauses though, rightfully, as he looks up. "Cor…"

"What?" Kanda snarls, speeding past him and walking to his dresser.

"I just…" He hears from behind him. "Um. I…" There's a long pause. "Cor…" he says again, as if there's no other word he can find to describe the situation. And Kanda has heard him say it loads of times, know it's some kind of Brit term, but there's still something about hearing him saying it like that, in a tone that feels almost forced.

"Shut the fuck up and get out so I can change." He says after a moment, grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from a drawer. He turns around, prepared to snap something else crude and rude, but is very quickly stopped by the Beansprout's expression. He's floored, he thinks – he's completely lost this game. He probably lost it a long time ago.

He wants Allen, and it's getting damn near impossible to deny.

"You probably…shouldn't show me your wet, half naked body right now," Beansprout manages after a moment, reluctantly turning away.

"You're the one in my bedroom," Kanda returns, though it has no force behind it. _What's this damn atmosphere? _He wonders. He doesn't live in a fuckin' porno. He doesn't. And wouldn't even _want_ to. So this whole situation needs to just…stop.

"Well, sorry." Allen starts, and maybe he sounds a bit genuinely sorry. "I was just curious…"

"Whatever. Leave."

The Beansprout nods and Kanda can see the back of his neck when he does. He'd ended up cutting his hair to as short as when they first met.

As Allen goes to leave the room, he looks back once more, and Kanda's about to throw the damn towel in his face if he doesn't continue walking, but Allen's eyes are focused on his face completely – they don't even look tempted to wander anywhere else. "Are you coming back downstairs?"

"After I get dressed. If you ever fucking leave."

"Okay," he says simply, almost stupidly. He looks like he's searching for something else to say, but apparently just gives up after a moment and exits the room.

Kanda releases a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding in and quickly gets dressed, tying his still wet hair into a ponytail and sweeping his bangs from his face. As he goes to leave the room as well, he notices the vinyl Allen was looking at when he walked in.

Duran Duran.

* * *

><p>When he gets downstairs, he at first goes to walk towards the back room again, fully intent on continuing the search for the NOAH, but the Beansprout is on his couch in the living room. He's reclined, looking for all the world like he's in his own fucking home, and there's some movie on the television.<p>

"You don't ever get tired of this shit?" Kanda sneers, plopping down on the other side of the couch.

"What? Movies? No, not really. Maybe because…every time I watch them, it seems like I can find something new in the shot. Or maybe I've learned some fact about it since the last time I watched it and I can see it from a different viewpoint. I love it." He pauses, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I don't get tired of things easily, I guess. I still put up with you, don't I?" He chuckles, but it feels forced.

Kanda returns with a 'harrumph' and crosses his arms. He's not sure of what movie it is on the television, but nonetheless, he directs his attention there. It strikes him that he doesn't really have the time or luxury to be watching some stupid movie, probably something by John Hughes, knowing Walker (though there's also the fact that Allen probably made him watch everything ever directed or written by John Hughes while they were still together); still, he's really not feeling too inclined to get up and go in that room again. Not after his dream. Not until he has to again.

"Ah, I'mma get something to drink," Beansprout mutters, stretching and standing.

"You seem to think you live here or something," Kanda returns offhandedly, trying to stay focused on the movie. Maybe if it was something more interesting he wouldn't have to work so hard.

"Ah, sorry. May I please partake in a beverage from your refrigerated unit, as I am quite parched?" Allen amends.

"Fuckin' smartass."

"I'll take that as a 'verily.'" He smirks. "Do you want something?" Kanda doesn't respond, so he shrugs and disappears down the hall towards the kitchen. It doesn't really matter – he hasn't stocked that fridge in what seems like ages, so he won't find much in there. The only food he has is non-perishables, at the moment – he wasn't _exactly_ lying when he mentioned he lived off of cigarettes and alcohol.

"Honestly?" He hears Allen sigh from the kitchen. Then the mumbling starts and it ticks Kanda off more than it usually would. How come when Alma or Lenalee or Lavi come here and act like they fuckin' own it, he can just ignore it, but when it's that fuckin' white kid, all he wants to do is rip something in half? He already knows he's lost – knows that one fucking move could send him into a territory he really didn't plan on returning to, but that's irrelevant when it comes to anger, right? If he's angry at anyone, it's himself – it should really _only_ be himself – so how does the fucking Beansprout get to him with just a few simple words?

There's a low growl in the base of his throat, involuntary and filled with venom.

Everything is so fucked up.

"I can't believe all you have to drink is tap water and beer." Allen pauses from behind him, and suddenly there's a Dos Equis in his face. "Well, I guess I can. You're low on whiskey, by the way. And everything else, for that matter. Do you ever plan on going to the grocer?"

He snatches the beer he didn't ask for from Allen's hands. "No."

Then the small child sits down next to him, making them closer than they were at first, and he has a beer in his hand, too. He uses a bottle opener he'd apparently found after ransacking drawers – and he knows Allen had to have searched for that shit, because he hasn't seen it in months – and then casually hands it over to Kanda.

"Are you trying to look not twelve or something?" Kanda asks, opening his own drink.

"I'm trying to not drink tap water. You don't even have any damn ice made."

"The ice maker is broken. And I honestly don't give that many shits about ice to make it myself." He knocks back a sip and rolls his eyes at the Beansprout's indignant expression. Though he can't lie that he looks decent with that bottle between his lips. "Just don't throw up and then kiss me this time."

"I can't make any promises."

* * *

><p>There is something disgustingly dangerous about having Allen Walker asleep on the couch next to him, not even three feet away. With a light scoff, he stands and makes his way towards his backroom, blissfully ignoring the way the Beansprout's open mouth looks as he breathes. The familiar room, the place he's been in the most these past few weeks, is illuminated only by the small lamp on the desk, and with a brief glance at his phone, he notices its far later than he'd originally assumed. Still, that's not going to make him turn around and go back to sleep. It's not like he even could with Allen still here. He's probably going to have to either pass out, or just wait to sleep until he leaves. Fuck, even when the kid is asleep he's bothering Kanda.<p>

He spreads his hands flat against the map, careful not to knock out any of the pins. He can't forget. He can't lose himself to that feeling. If he does…

There is some sharp increase in his heartbeat, then, as his fingers brush along South Rampart. Then lead up Canal. Then move into the French Quarter and rest on Royal. Then they lead back down to the intersection Allen mentioned before. Iberville. Carondelet. He leads his finger through the one way streets of the French Quarter, all the way to the river.

The river?

Not by the Crescent City Connection, but by the train tracks. By the small levees and large concrete walls that separate lay people from the dangerous tides and small, rocky beaches. Everything up to now, how they got from place to place so quickly, especially by their homes, which are right next to UNO which is right on the river. How all of their murders were no more than five or so blocks away from the river. It makes a little more sense than before. Now, there's just how they travel from place to place when they're actually in the city...

...Though, while it would be easy enough to _get_ to the Mississippi river, there are dozens upon dozens of boats and barges and ferries that travel through it every day. And it opens right into the Gulf – the perfect escape route, whether it's to Mexico or even, if they so desired, South America and Europe and Africa. Once they're in the Gulf, they have easy enough access to the Atlantic Ocean, and once they're in the Atlantic Ocean, they could go anywhere they pleased.

That's if they're using a boat, though. Maybe he's totally off-base about this? Maybe it's just late and he needs to take a few steps back because this is kind of crazy and how could an entire operation run from a boat? It would have to stay docked somewhere, and the only big boats docked right on the Mississippi are River Boats and Carnival Cruise Ships.

It doesn't make much sense that it would be small, since it's a good thirteen (fourteen?) people running their business of crime from it.

Fuckin' hell, if only things weren't so fucking complicated.

He just wants to get this over and done with.

* * *

><p>He blinks awake to a harsh, nearly screeching noise way too close to his ear for his comfort. Alma Karma's lips barely brush his ear and he swats the annoying brown-haired boy away with none of his usual grace but all of his usual malice. "Get the fuck away," he grumbles, throat hoarse from sleep. His arm has fallen asleep from the way it's been tucked between his head and his messy desk, and he groans before stretching and giving Alma the most unamused glare he can muster. "What are you doing here?"<p>

"Oh? Allen let me in. Which is weird because that must have meant he slept here last night. Which is also weird because I thought you hated him and you never let people you hate spend the night here. Unless you're fuckin' them. So? Are you fucking him?" Kanda merely rolls his eyes. "You're _not_? Oh, well in that case I suppose he's available." Alma smirks. "I guess I'll just have to pop in and let that little Brit hunk know just how available _I_ am."

In response to that, Kanda at least graces him with, "Do it and I'll fucking kill you."

"Oh, Yu. I am hurt. You already tried that once and nearly got away with it. You'd do it again? How could you be so cruel?"

_Easily_, he very nearly mutters, but he holds himself back and simply stands, stretching his arms again. "Is the Beansprout still fuckin' here?"

"Oh, yeah. He was just talking about leaving though. Something about needing real food and that saltine crackers are just not doing it for him. But dude, not even any mayo? The fuck, man? How've you been surviving?"

He brushes Alma off and leaves his back room without looking back or making sure that he's being followed. When he gets into his living room the first thing he notices is that it's exactly the way he left it. Not a single couch cushion looks out of place and if it weren't for what Alma had said he might have thought it was all a dream. Which would have been nice.

But he's not so lucky – the sound of the door opening and closing directs his attention to the small white haired boy walking through it and his default grimace shows on his face.

"Oh, Kanda, mornin'," Allen yawns, running a hand through his hair. "Just woke up a few moments ago, was gonna get outta yer hair." His accent is thick again, as thick as when the first met, but not so thick as when they first kissed. At least he's not using any of that stupid Brit slang. Whenever he used to use it in the mornings, Kanda'd want to pull his hair out, among other things. "Alma, comin' with?"

"Oh, yeah!" He exclaims, running forward and putting his arms around Allen's neck. Kanda doesn't really find that he has the energy to give any fucks about his teasing at the moment. "Kanda, are you gonna come? It's Lena-bee's birthday and we were gonna go out early and do some shopping."

"Fuck," he grumbles. Why is it that they always forget her stupid birthday? It happens on the same day every goddamn year. "Fine."

With as much motivation he can muster in something not immediately related to his vendetta, he goes upstairs and quickly gets ready before going back down and following them silently out the door as they chatter along stupidly. As he locks his door, he vaguely notes that the chill outside is pretty similar to the chill inside.

* * *

><p>They don't go to Canal place this time, simply to a number of shops around uptown since it's closer to her house. Alma ends up making them stop at a grocery at one point and comes out with a medium-sized box fully wrapped in some of the ugliest paper he's ever seen. He doesn't even want to know what's inside of it, but the boy is just happy as ever, whistling some stupid tune and skipping back to the car.<p>

Kanda and Allen end up getting her present from the same store, and if it weren't for the fact that Lenalee really is into weird stripper boots right now, he'd have thought it weird. That maybe the Beansprout is trying to one-up him at his own game again. And there's this bright light in his usually blue-chrome eyes that makes them shine like newly polished silver. Kanda doesn't think he's ever seen another pair of eyes like it, and they're kind of exotically striking in a strange way.

When the Beansprout smiles as they're picking out boots, Kanda is suddenly struck by the thought that he hasn't seen that expression in months. He's not stupid, he knows how to tell a false smile from a real one and there's something about seeing the real thing and remembering what it was attributed to that makes his chest ache. It takes amazing amounts of self-control not to reach over and kiss the smile right off his stupid, pretty face.

After they've paid and walked out (and honestly, Kanda should probably stop using his credit card at some point but he can't find it in himself to care – he'll probably end up dead by the end of the year anyway) Allen pops the trunk to the Supra and puts their bags in it before climbing in the driver's seat and making their way to their friend's home.

Lenalee's house is just the same as the last time he came, unsurprisingly. There's something unsettling about it, and Kanda really wouldn't be surprised if he found out that Komui had cameras set up all about the place to spy on Lenalee and her company. Dude is fucking creepy with his sister complex. If he wasn't so goddamn smart and if Lenalee didn't love him so goddamn much, Kanda might have actually wrung his neck a while ago. He just makes things so uncomfortable.

He walks in with Alma and Allen just behind him, and with a large intake of breath, Alma calls out, "Lena-bee! Buzz, buzz, Lena-bee! We have arrived."

The slight, girlish giggle alerts them that she's in the kitchen. "Why am I a bee again?" She asks, walking into the living room.

"Because bee rhymes with lee _and_ because you can pollinate my flowers any time of the day," Alma winks, and Lenalee full on laughs with a bright blush covering her cheeks. She really is attractive, Kanda supposes, if he was into stuff like that.

"Watch it," Lenalee returns, her face still flushed with delight and maybe a bit of embarrassment. "My brother's going to be home any second, and if he heard that you would definitely be labeled a threat."

"Oh?" Alma smirks, and his eyes look sultry. "Bring it on, big bro."

"Alma," Allen chuckles. "Lenalee is in a very chaste and pure and serious relationship. Stand down."

"Oh, come on, Ally!" Alma cries, attaching himself to Allen now. Kanda's torn between indifference and…not-indifference.

Lenalee rolls her eyes. "Anyway, I'm glad you three made it here like this. Lavi's on his way with Miranda, but they're gonna be a little while, and Reever's with Komui and Bak and the rest of that group, dealing with…oh, I don't know, something." She scratches the back of her head. "So I would have been left completely alone on my birthday, and that's just no fun at all."

Allen smiles and walks up to her, wraps on of his arms around hers. Sometimes his level of gay even astounds Kanda. But then Alma goes up and takes her other arm in the same manner and he wonders if it's actually just stupidity. Leaving the presents they'd bought her on the couch (and Kanda), Alma and Allen escort her back into the kitchen, muttering about something of severe non-importance and paying absolutely no mind to the fact that if Komui walked in, they would probably both be leaving via ambulance.

Sighing harshly, not really left with any other options, Kanda follows them into the kitchen just in time to see them raiding her refrigerator. She just looks amused, perched on top of a bar stool and crossing her long legs. "They have a one-track mind, don't they?" Lenalee asks Kanda, flipping her hair from her face.

It's then that the front door swings open and there is the unmistakable sound of Komui's pestering.

"Lenalee! We're home! Why is Cross's car in our driveway?"

Kanda's not a master of power tools, but that's definitely a drill he hears.

"Wait, it's just Allen, Kanda, and Alma!" Lenalee calls out, rolling her eyes and hopping off of the stool in order to meet her psycho brother in the living room. "Just, please calm down, okay? Nothing's wrong!"

Kanda doesn't move from his spot against the countertop, but Allen and Alma poke their heads around the corner in order to see who all's arrived. "Oh, Alma, good to see you're here." Bak calls. "You've gotta stop leaving cryptic notes in your hotel room."

"I wasn't lying or anything. I really was 'escaping to a fair maiden several miles north in order to help in her noble quest.'"

Kanda growls, low in his throat, but doesn't do anything else otherwise.

If he doesn't end up killing Alma one day, he'll be surprised.

* * *

><p>Lavi and Miranda arrive nearly an hour later, but by that time Kanda is really just ready to get up and leave. Soon after they arrive, Lenalee begins opening her presents, and Kanda realizes all at once that it's the exact same and the exact opposite of the last time she was opening their presents. He recalls with slight trepidation how Allen had so desperately tried to one-up him, and had possibly succeeded. Why had the stupid kid been so hell-bent on have a better gift? Honestly because he had liked her?<p>

As he watches her open Allen's latest present, he can't help but feel a slight twinge of possessiveness. Against Lenalee of all people. Which makes next to no sense because even if Allen was his, Lenalee would be next to no threat and he wouldn't have to feel jealous of her. Though, perhaps it's because he doesn't have Allen that he's feeling so possessive. Maybe it's simply because he _can't_ have him.

But he's not one to get too existential about shit.

Lenalee beams, then, opening the smallish box that's apparently from Alma and peering inside before biting her bottom lip and raising one thin eyebrow. "Um," she starts, and honestly Kanda can't even begin to image what Alma would have put in there. "Thank…you…" She smiles, weakly, and takes the jar of mayonnaise from its box. Alma laughs boisterously, leaning over the table and opening the top of it before dipping a chip in and taking a bite.

If Kanda had a decent gag reflex, he might have thrown up. Sure, when Alma was young he did disgusting shit like that, putting a spoon in a tub of mayo and licking it clean, but this is fucking ridiculous.

Lenalee looks as though she's trying not to frown too harshly, or really even be put off at all. She's failing miserably, though.

"What the fuck, man," Lavi laughs, and the fact that he can even muster words is off-putting. "That's nasty as hell."

"No way," Alma mutters, licking his lips provocatively. "It's scrumptious."

"Even I'm not that bad," Allen mutters, pursing his lips, but he looks more amused than anything else. How can he be amused or find this funny in any way? It's honestly a crime against human nature. Just thinking about it makes him want to find the nearest bathroom, however, so he quickly pushes it out of his mind and ignores the flippant response from the strange 23 year old in question.

They quickly run through presents, though not as quickly as he might have liked, but while he protests to the best of his ability, he's roped into staying a bit longer. By a mischievous Lenalee-Alma tag team. He honestly believes that each and every one of his 'friends' are plotting against him most of the time. They're always ganging up on him, at the least.

"Yu," Alma starts, leaning against him with what must be nearly all of his body weight. "I just want you to know that if you leave little Allen available much longer, he's going to be snatched up. I'm not saying it's going to be me, but…"

_Sure as hell sounds like you're fucking saying that._

"Fuckin' hell," Kanda snaps. "Stop bringing that shit up."

"I just don't want you to be surprised when you walk in the room and Allen is draped romantically in my – I mean a total stranger's – arms."

"What's this about me being draped in whose arms?" The Beansprout asks, walking up to them, hands shoved nonchalantly in the pockets of his too-tight jeans. There just as much a crime as the mayonnaise eating, but for an entirely different reason.

"Me plus you equals together forever, basically," Alma offers. "We're going to get married, have about thirteen kids, and live in the Garden District together."

"That's a lot of kids," Allen mutters. "Makes the whole situation slightly off-putting…"

"You see, Yu. He's put off by the children, not the hot sex the two of us will be having while you are left alone at the wayside." He pauses. "Unless you're offering to –"

"Fuck that and fuck you," Kanda snarls, way past being able to deal with Alma's mouth. Honestly, the thought of anyone – especially Alma – having Allen makes him physically sick and creates a white-hot fire in the pit of his chest.

He finds that he's fucked either way. He's damned if he has him and he's damned if he doesn't. Why must there be such a no-win scenario in his life? He wonders briefly if he did something to deserve all this shit in a past life but quickly brushes that idiocy aside.

Reincarnation? Impossible.

* * *

><p>When he's finally able to get back to his home, he's blissfully alone. No Beansprout to bother him, no Alma to bother him even more. Completely by himself.<p>

When he opens the door to his house, he very nearly expects to hear someone moving around or calling out stupid 'welcome homes', but he doesn't get any of that. Instead, he gets the abnormally loud sound of a door shutting and the eerie quietness that can only be associated with a big house with no people in it. The heater isn't even kicked on, and the only sounds are actually the muffled cacophonies of the night outside his door. Even the refrigerator is weirdly silent.

It's only once he tries to flip his light on that he realizes his electricity has been shut off.

"Fucking perfect," he snarls, slamming his hand against the wall, astoundingly not breaking through the shitty sheet rock. He doesn't dwell on this, however, much too set on barreling into his kitchen and going through the mounds of mail that have been stacked high. "Forgot my goddamn payments."

He's honestly not that surprised, as the last time he even thought about bills was the last time Lavi and Lenalee were at his place – and how many weeks ago was that? Admittedly not that many, but he had put off his payment and he's now suffering the punishment of that stupidity.

He hasn't even checked his account in forever, though, and it'd be a miracle and a half if he had the money to turn it back on. So whatever. _Whatever_. It's not like it even matters. Why does something so simply like electricity matter when there's something so important as going after the Noah to be focused on. So he'll use a few lanterns, have to use an extra blanket when he goes to bed. He'll survive.

He storms into his backroom, so far past angry that he's really surprised he can even get so livid. Is there a term for this? Some word in some dictionary that could sum up his emotions? Most likely not, and the shittiest thing is that Alma's words from earlier are running around in circles in his mind. This only proves to fuel his anger.

It's probably not simply anger, though, and that's possibly why it's so intensely felt.

Frustration. He's not just mad at everything, he's frustrated at his lack of ability to change it. There's all these things, all these variables that keep popping up and all he can do is sit back and watch them fuck him over. There's a lack of control and that _bothers_ him. It eats away at his pride from the inside out and leaves him to sit and wallow in pity and whatever the fuck else he's been doing so much lately.

It's that frustration that makes him hit things, because it coils up so tightly in his chest that when it begins moving to his arms and legs it seems like the only thing he can do to rid himself of it is move. He screams, loudly, probably so loudly that his neighbors can hear him, and punches the map on the wall in front of him. Punches it and kicks it and loses his fucking mind at it because it's the reason everything in his life has been complete shit. If only he could mangle it and make it pay for what it's done to him. For he and Alma's 'training,' for Tiedoll and Daisya's death – for making him fucking _fall in love with that fucking idiot of a fucking kid_.

The notion literally sweeps him off his feet and he ends up on the ground heaving, the back of his head pressed awkwardly and painfully into the leg of his desk. He vaguely notices his bloody knuckles, but merely lays there for a moment trying to keep himself from processing any of what's happened to him.

He doesn't want to, doesn't mean to, but by the time he realizes he's been trying so hard not to think about anything that he's ended up cradling himself and clutching at his hair so tightly pieces of it fall back with his fingers when he pulls his hands away, he knows that he's already completely just…lost. This whole thing with the NOAH hasn't just taken away Tiedoll and Daisya and Allen, but it's taken away bits and pieces of him. Parts of who he used to be. Was he always so crass? Did he honestly hate human contact as much when he was younger? It wasn't always that it was hard to stare in a mirror, right?

It's changed him. Not changed him to the point that he's a completely separate person, just so much that it's sucked all the light from his life. From his being. He wouldn't even be able to see if it weren't for those other idiots in his life, and they're being taken away too. Can't the Earl just fucking leave him be?

But isn't that presumptuous? To think that the Earl is doing all of this just to give him some discomfort. No, he supposes that's just his lot in life. To get fucked over.

Disgusted with himself, he finally stands and makes his way towards his bedroom. If he's going to throw himself a pity-party, he might as well do it where he's not going to freeze his fucking ass off.

* * *

><p><strong>Ugu, hello readers :) Nice to see you again. <strong>

**Anyway, major revelations in this chapter. I honestly think it's taken Kanda long enough to admit he loves the kid, it's just sad that it has to be in the middle of a breakdown. **

**Thanks again for all of your support :D**


	8. Chapter Seven

**Enjoy. **

* * *

><p>It is the biting chill that wakes him. Weeks, it's been like this, but at least as it's nearing Spring Louisiana is remembering its distance to the equator and warming up. It's just mornings that leave him uncomfortable, now. The cold is not his friend.<p>

Groaning, he wraps his comforter tighter around his body and checks the clock next to his bed. Just after five in the morning. His inability to sleep in this house, or, more likely, in general, is starting to get ridiculous. There's far too much on his mind – he's getting too close. He knows he is. He can fucking feel it. And it's been a big boost to his pride that he hasn't needed help from any of the assholes who consider themselves his friends. Dodging calls and keeping his house locked makes it easier.

He coughs, harshly, and narrows his eyes at the sharp pains in his chest. The cold air very nearly burns his lungs when he coughs.

By the time seven rolls around and he's been tossing and turning in his bed, trying to go back to sleep and failing miserably, he gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. He's not even going to try and take a shower until it heats up more outside, since there's no hot water due to the lack of electricity. Instead, he ties his hair up to keep it from his face and brushes his teeth before meandering downstairs and straight into his backroom. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes how uncomfortable he feels, physically, and he's probably hungry, but he forgoes that in order to get to work.

He's going to get there. He knows he is. No more distractions, no more anything. Because if it's the very last thing he does, he's going to win this. He's not going to lose to the Noah – not like Tiedoll and Daisya lost. Not like Allen's impending loss.

The Beansprout has, sure, tried to contact him, but whether it's because he's simply too busy to answer or his little outburst three weeks ago cut too close to home he's not going to treat him differently than the others who call and text and bang on his door. He can't afford to. He was letting Allen get too close again.

And look what that led to.

He feels misery to the core of his being and drops his head in his hands in exhaustion. Not physical exhaustion per say, even though he did get a whopping three hours of sleep last night, but a different kind he can't exactly place. Admitting those things to himself was simply too much, and it was after that night that he cut off all contact to the outside world. The only reason he leaves his for his very occasional trips for food. But the last time he went to get food his card was declined so that's not even going to happen anymore.

He doesn't want to starve to death before he rips off at least thirteen heads, though, so he'll think of something.

Sitting down at his desk, he surveys the manila files in front of him. But just as he's about to flip open the first one, Skinn Bolic's, he hears clattering from the general area of his kitchen and immediately stands to attention. Dizziness sets in though, and he rights himself by pressing a hand to his desk. He must have just gotten up too quickly.

"Yu!" He hears, and he very nearly explodes into a rage upon recognizing the voice. "I may have broken your back door, sorry about that – oh that sounds naughty." Storming from the room, he turns the corner for the kitchen to face the intruder.

Alma Karma struts across his floor as if he was invited in. He gives one look at Kanda, then frowns. That expression doesn't look right, and maybe it's because he hasn't seen it on the boy since Japan. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Kanda snarls.

"I came to make sure you weren't _rotting_ in here," Alma returns, and he almost sounds a bit harsh, but Kanda must've been imagining it because all at once his pixie-face brightens. "But you're alive, so that's good."

_Good is a relative term_, Kanda thinks idly. He doesn't feel great. He actually feels the opposite of great. What would that be, complete shit? "Thanks for the check-up, _doctor_," he rolls his eyes. "You can pay to fix that door, by the way."

"Sure, sure," Alma nods, strolling towards Kanda. Kanda would almost inch back, but that feels too much like backing down and he doesn't really have the energy anyway. "You know, though, you are looking a little pale. And thin. Thinn_er_. Have you been skipping meals again?"

Again? Alma's probably referring to before Kanda ever left Japan the first time; it wasn't really that he was ever _skipping_ meals, though. He simply didn't want to eat. "No." He simply didn't want to live.

"Wow, _that's_ a fuckin' lie."

"Go the fuck away," Kanda groans, turning on his heel and going to make himself a glass of water. His throat feels itchy. "And use the front fucking door."

"Listen, Yu…there's another reason I came by…besides the fact that I really am worried for your health."

"Spit it out."

"I…" Alma pauses, and Kanda's never really seen him lost for words before. He's grown accustomed to the Alma that's been around these past few months, and he's beginning to wonder if maybe Alma's more like that idiot red-head Lavi than he thought. More serious and more intelligent than people give him credit for. And maybe he wants it that way, and maybe that's why he acts the way he does. "Never mind, don't worry you're pretty little head about it," Alma laughs. "You should just rest up and feel better, okay? Because I know you're sick – I know you're not eating and I know you aren't taking care of yourself. You do this sometimes. You're too proud to admit it, but the NOAH really, really get to you…and I know the thing with your Beansprout doesn't help. He misses you, by the way."

Well, admittedly, Kanda isn't exactly dandy without him, either, but he wouldn't go so far as to say he _misses_ the white-haired runt. He has things to deal with – much bigger and more…important things. "Good for him," Kanda snaps, downing his glass of tap water. The gulps he takes are too big and he ends up just making his throat hurt worse.

Makes his chest hurt, too…the water…

He hears Alma's sigh, and it's much closer than he thought it would be. Turning around, he notices the brown-haired boy's only about two feet away from him, and he's definitely feeling his personal space get invaded. "Don't kill yourself, okay?"

"Whatever," Kanda rolls his eyes, but he's slightly…confused. Alma's talking as if they're not going to see each other again, at least for a while. Something in his tone, or maybe it's some slight inflection he's subconsciously picking up on.

"And…I'm sorry," Alma says lowly, eyes downcast before leaning up to wrap his arms around Kanda's neck tightly and kissing his cheek. Kanda recoils immediately, eyes snap shut in disgust as he tries to wipe off the affection.

By the time he opens his eyes, Alma's gone.

* * *

><p>He didn't check. Didn't make sure that Alma locked the front door behind him. That's why it's his own fault if Lavi's leaning over his worn-out body looking as worried as Kanda's ever seen him. Lenalee is at his side, and blearily, Kanda realizes he must have fallen asleep (passed out…) on the couch after Alma left.<p>

"Kanda…" Lenalee starts, and Kanda's used to her blubbering, used to her worrying, but it doesn't mean he likes it.

"Stop…" he grumbles. "What's your problem?"

"What's _your_ problem?" Lavi asks angrily. "You were about to graduate with a fucking degree in biology before your little project started. What happens when you don't eat? When you live in a house that has no heater in tandem with that? I'm sure you don't get even half the correct amount of sleep, and –"

"Lavi!" Lenalee cries. "Come on, stop that. Kanda's obviously not feeling well."

If it's so obvious, then go away.

"Shit, if Alma hadn't called…and I'm glad we didn't tell Allen…" Lavi shakes his head. "Though he's going to find out eventually. What were you planning to do? You wanna die, too? Leave Marie and Chaoji after all the shit that's happened?"

_I don't need to take this shit, not from him._ Snarling, albeit weakly, Kanda pushes Lavi out of the way and sits up. He's dizzy again, and, okay, he's probably suffering from some kind of inanition and that explains his weakness and light-headedness, but whatever.

"He's not going to die!" Lenalee continues. "Don't even talk like that!"

"Damn right, he's not," Lavi grumbles, swatting Kanda's resisting hands away and heaving him up.

"What the – _what the fuck do you think you're doing_?!" Kanda manages out, though speaking in general gives him a headache, this is definitely necessary.

"I'm picking you up and dragging you to the hospital if I have to. They need to get you on a fuckin' IV or something. I can look at you and tell you're malnourished. What is wrong with you?"

Kanda fights, he does. He fights until there's no fight left. He fights until he passes out just outside his front door.

* * *

><p>He hates hospitals. Abhors them. If it were up to him, there would be no such thing as hospitals, just private practices, but he knows that'd make patient care a lot more difficult. Blinking sleepily, he opens his eyes to the sound of steady beeping. His heart monitor. His right arm is completely asleep, and when he tries to angle it to get the blood flowing back to it he sees the IV planted in his wrist. He scrunches his face in distaste and looks at his other arm, and sees two IVs in that one, one at the underside of his wrist and one on top of his hand.<p>

His entire body feels weirdly…off-kilter. Not right. Not like it should. He's drugged up, he knows, but that's not it. He knows drugged up. He was in a constant state of it as a kid.

Closing his eyes sharply, he forces the memories away. He doesn't need to think about that. Not right now. Not when he's in a situation so similar.

He's here against his will, and that's enough to make him edgy as it is.

"You've got quite the stubborn body," he hears from his left and his head swivels so fast in that direction it makes him sick. "Doctor found it absolutely amazing that someone could go as long as you on so little." Komui folds his hands in his lap. "I can't say I'm as surprised."

"You _are_ friends with that blonde idiot that came over from Japan, so neither am I…" He starts, and he's surprised to find how much easier it is to talk now. His throat still burns, but he feels stronger, and he's at least a bit grateful for that.

Komui's silent for a while longer. "You shouldn't have let it get that bad."

"Don't start."

"If Bak or I thought this would have happened, we never would have let you continue on like you did. Never would have let you go at it alone." Komui doesn't even pause, doesn't even seem to realize Kanda said anything at all.

"Don't ignore me! And besides, you weren't _letting_ me do anything! I'm my own fucking person and I'll do what I want."

"You're a child, Kanda." Komui's eyes harden. "And no matter what you say – we adults shoulder the blame." _For everything that's happened_, he doesn't finish, but Kanda knows it's there. "We should have stopped it."

"I'm nearly fuckin' twenty-two years old. I've grown up. I'm not nine anymore. What's done is done."

Komui shakes his head and a tentative knock on the door brings their conversation to an end. "Come in," Komui says, and Kanda has half a mind to ask what right he has to invite people into _his_ room.

Bak walks in, and Kanda very nearly tears the IVs from his arms and jumps out the window. He isn't sure of what floor he's own, but he's willing to take the risk. He knows exactly what that fucking man is going to say to him. He'll go on the same way as Komui. Perhaps even worse since he's in direct relation to what happened all those years ago.

"How are you feeling?"

"Peachy."

"Kanda, I-"

"Do not say a fucking word more. I don't need to hear it from you as well."

"Fine," Bak says, nodding. "I won't bother you too long, as I'm sure you need to rest more. But I wanted to ask…" he pauses, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "Do you know where Alma is?"

"_What_?"

That's not what he expected. Not by a long-run.

"He's been completely out of reach for days now. He apparently called Lavi to tell him to check on you yesterday, but that's all we really know…And generally when he disappears he just goes straight to you. Even when you both were children, he…"

"I have no idea where he is," Kanda frowns. "Maybe you should just take better care to track your people."

Bak awkwardly rubs his arm. "Generally, I'd know he was leaving whenever he snuck out, which was often. Since he was really the one who wanted to come here so badly –"

"_He_ was the one that made you come?"

"There were a lot of factors, but he's the one that pushed it."

For some reason, Kanda really doesn't feel like it was because he was here. There's just this nagging in the back of his head that says there's perhaps a bit more going on than he bargained for. Even with getting as close as he has to figuring out how the NOAH move, he's still no closer to the why or anything like that. Because of that…there could be _a million and a half_ more things going on than he bargained for…

"Right, well. No. I don't know where the fuck he is. When you find him, though, do me a favor and explain to him why it's fucked up to break into people's homes early in the morning."

"He broke into your house?"

"Yeah, this morning or yesterday morning or what the fuck ever, I don't even know what goddamn day it is. Sounded pretty fuckin' cryptic when he was talking, too, but he's a dramatic little bitch to begin with…"

_**I'm sorry.**_

…_Sorry for what, motherfucker?_

Bak looks slightly upset, and it's not hard to figure out why. It's not just that he's alone in a big city. He's in danger due to his proximity to Allen. His proximity to Kanda, too, and if that's not slightly disheartening, Kanda's not sure what is.

The thing about Alma Karma is that he can definitely take care of himself if it came down to a fight, so Kanda's isn't necessarily worried about that. But Alma Karma missed nearly thirteen years of his life. Just because he can kick someone's ass…doesn't mean he's going to be perfectly okay out on his own.

Rolling his eyes, Kanda curses at himself mentally for his thoughts and finally moves to sit up completely before crossing his arms and scowling at the people in his room. Maybe if he stares at them hard and long enough they'll go away. But his salvation comes in another way.

Who he can only presume to be the doctor walks in after a minute or two of uncomfortable silence, and it is with this that Komui stands and Bak gives a low bow.

"We'll be back to check on you later, Kanda," Komui says, smiling faintly. "If you need anything, you can call."

"Sure."

"If you hear anything about Alma," Bak starts, but he shakes his head and smiles in a similar fashion to the dark haired man next to him. "Just…get better."

"Fine."

As they leave, the doctor walks up to him. She can't be any older than thirty-five, and the smile plastered on her face isn't even fake. Doctors are never that happy. No one is that happy when they're constantly around death.

Unless they're a psychopath.

Kanda frowns at her intensely.

"Well, Mister Kanda, aren't you lucky for your friends." She starts, looking down at her clipboard. When he says nothing she goes on, unperturbed. "You've been awake a few times before this, but we could never get anything out of you due to your delirium from the drugs. You made yourself quite sick, didn't you?"

This woman says a lot of thing he doesn't want to listen to. "Obviously."

She still smiles. "Well, I won't presume to guess why," she says. "That's your own business. However," she sits down on the edge of his bed and sets the clipboard down next to them. She has this weird, motherly look on her face that's so damn close to patronizing he's ready to jump out the window again. Maybe this wasn't exactly his salvation. "I'm required by law to tell you about the dangers of not taking care of yourself. Namely, eating."

"Listen, woman," he starts, and she only seems slightly taken aback by his tone. "I'm not fucking anorexic or anything like that, okay? Goddamn, I've been screaming this until _I've_ been blue in the face lately, but I'm a Biology major. I know the dangers. I don't need to sit here and listen to whatever shit you're going to spew me. I've been alive more than two decades. I am of the firm understanding that eating is needed for survival."

"Very well," she nods, folding her hands. "Then I want to ask you something else. Has this happened before?"

"What?"

"Well," she chuckles, and it sounds very nearly nervous. Perhaps awkward. "Your charts are…unconventional at best. Honestly, how you went so long on near starvation and were still as coherent as your friends say you were….I was just curious. There's a serious lapse of records for anything until the age of nine or ten besides your birth records."

Kanda's quiet for a long while.

"Has no one ever spoken to you about this before?"

"If you look at your precious records, you'll see I'm not here often. No."

"You were here last…" she pauses and looks at her charts from its spot on the bed. "September."

He honestly doesn't want to think about that goddamn month. "And before that?"

She looks down again. "Well, any number of times up until you were eighteen or nineteen. You were reckless to say the least. But it was always for physical injuries," she concedes. "And these records here even say your recovery time was exceedingly quick. Nearly inhuman, but there was never a reason to suggest why."

He's really never been asked these questions before, though he's sure they were there. Tiedoll was always the one talking to the doctors. "I've just always been that way. As long as I can remember." It helps that his durability was stressed those few years before his tenth birthday. If you weren't strong at first, you were simply held down until you were made to be.

He doesn't think about those years often, for good reason. Tiedoll helped him with those thoughts; even though they were disarmingly invasive and painful for him, the man seemed to know just what to say whenever he was getting bothered.

"It's just all very strange. Especially to someone like me. It's as if…"

"What, Lady? Do you want me to tell you I'm a fucking alien or something? I'm a superhuman?" He's starting to lose his patience, mostly because the memories being brought back are starting to make his chest contract and his fingers go numb and his head ache with phantom pains from his childhood. He's feeling exceedingly trapped and this is another reason why he _hates hospitals_. "I don't have any more answers than you do." He does, really, but not many more. "I just want to be discharged. So sign those papers and make it happen."

She sighs a bit. "I can't. Not just yet. You're still healing. I won't release you from my care until I'm sure that you're okay. And that you're going to be eating right again."

"I'll be eating just fine! Fuck, just let me out of this fucking place. I don't want to be here, and you can't keep me here."

"Of course I can, Sweetie," she says, and maybe her smile is a bit sad. "I don't know what happened to you, Kanda, and I'm sorry it did, but you've gotta stay here just a bit longer."

"I just said that I don't-"

"Kanda?"

His entire body stills at the sound of his name and his doctor looks over at the door before standing and pulling her clipboard to her chest. "Looks like you have a visitor," she smiles. "I'll leave you two in peace. I didn't mean to be the bearer of bad news, but it's my job unfortunately. Just a while longer, okay?"

He doesn't say anything else to her as she hurriedly checks the beeping machines and scurries out the door.

"I thought that was you I heard bitching," Allen smiles, weakly, side-stepping the doctor and walking closer to his bed. "How are you feeling?" When he gets no response, Allen sighs and runs his gloved hand through his hair. Kanda is mostly focused on breathing, though. He honestly wishes he was back asleep. Or back in his house. Or just _anywhere but where he is._ "I…Lavi called me and told me what was going on. I…" He's standing next to Kanda's bed now, and the man shrinks away only slightly. Their distance from each other isn't comforting. He's much too on edge for this. For seeing Allen after his little fit. His little admittance. Even if it _was_ just in his head.

"Just…go…" Kanda growls out weakly.

"What? Kanda, I came because I was worried, alright? Why are you doing this to yourself?"

He's tired. So fucking tired of hearing that. "Holy shit, why can't you all just shut your fucking mouths and leave me be? I'm tired. I'm fucking exhausted of this shit. All of it. I just want it over with."

Allen's expression changes immediately, but not in the way Kanda would have thought. He doesn't look angry. He looks…sad. "Kanda," he whispers. "I'm sorry."

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Someone's going to be sorry when he starts ripping heads off.

Then Allen leans over and wraps his arms around Kanda's neck and everything…stops. His anxieties and his anger. It's just gone. Allen's shoulders are shaking, but Kanda knows he's not crying. It's like he's…scared. "I was thinking, before, that maybe it really would be better if I didn't see you. Maybe it would be easier, then…because at the end of the summer, it's _going_ to be all over, isn't it? We can try and try and try, but when it comes down to it…But, shit, Kanda, you were just…going to let yourself die, weren't you?" He doesn't have anything to say to that. Doesn't think he has anything to say to anything. "I'm sorry I didn't try harder to help. I should have realized that…you're going to lose something, too, if the NOAH win. They took away your dad and your brother, and…" His grip tightens. "I wasn't thinking about my friends. I just missed you. I just wanted to be next to you because I wanted you. I wasn't thinking about you and what you wanted or needed at all."

"God…just…shut up…" Kanda says finally, but it's not harsh or mean or angry. He doesn't move to hug Allen back, but he doesn't pull away – kind of rests into the embrace until Allen moves to let him go.

Allen pulls up a chair as close to the hospital bed as he can and sits in it before taking Kanda's hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. Kanda very nearly pulls away, but for some reason or another he doesn't. For some reason or another that he's sure that he knows…

"I forgot what it meant to be friends with you," Allen says. "I didn't even realize it. Just…because I cared too much. Because I didn't want to be friends. I'm sorry for that."

Kanda scoffs at him, turns his head away. "Stop fuckin' apologizing."

"Sorry," Allen says, with mirth, obviously just screwing with him. The white-haired boy then squeezes his hand a bit and Kanda, reluctantly, turns to look at him again in response. "I do though. Want to be your friend. At least your friend."

"At least," Kanda deadpans.

Allen smiles nervously, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. "I know that…the way I feel isn't just going to go away…don't ask for the impossible."

He wasn't. He really never was.

Then Allen lets go of his hand and checks his phone. "But, um. I've got a lesson in about half an hour, so…I have to go. Consider it, okay? Don't say no right away. I know how you get." He sticks out his tongue and stands. "I'll be back to visit."

Kanda very nearly opens his mouth and says something back, but he doesn't.

In silence, Allen pockets his phone, smiles, and leaves the room.

* * *

><p>It takes another three days for them to be sure that Kanda's okay enough to leave the hospital. His doctor, as patronizing as ever, is astounded as his ability to bounce back, as most are; thankfully, Chaoji and Marie are there to pick him up in record time so he doesn't have to listen to her for too long.<p>

They weren't…pleased with his condition. Mostly because he was the one that made it that way, he'll admit, but they don't pester him. They do, however, nearly beg him to stay at Marie's. He can't blame them. Not after what happened with Daisya.

Doesn't mean he likes it.

He'll admit that after what happened he's less exuberant about his chase. He let himself get so lost in it that he completely forgot who he was. The NOAH really had taken away the pieces of him that he'd actually felt…proud of. He's a proud person, and they snatched it all away, turned him into…

He gets another call from Bak by the time they reach Marie's apartment, a decent brick condo in uptown. There's still no sign of Alma; Kanda has the distinct, sinking feeling that there won't be for some reason. Not that he think anything's happened to him, it's just…with the way Alma sounded just before he disappeared – it's like he wanted to be gone. Like he's been planning for it. Possibly for a while.

He rubs his cheek, trying to repel the eerie feeling of Alma's lips there. Bak's sufficiently worried at this point and rattles on, much to the dismay of Kanda. He doesn't need to listen to his shit, really doesn't, because while sure, he and Alma are _friends_, it doesn't mean it's necessarily his problem. Alma will show up when he shows up, even if, he'll admit, it is a slight cause for concern.

They'd had the sense to at least stop at the old house on New York to grab some of his shit, so when he walks through the door, bags in one hand and phone pressed between his ear and his shoulder, he goes straight for the spare bedroom and puts his things down. He's not even listening to Bak anymore, simply not hanging up, and he pulls the phone from his ear as he walks back into the main area.

The living room isn't that big, or at least doesn't appear to be due to the large piano sitting smack in the middle of it. He maneuvers around it and sits on the couch before hearing a muffled, "_Kanda, Kanda_?"

Bak's caught on. "What?"

"_Are you even listening_?"

"No."

"_But this could be bad_!"

"It's not. Stop bothering me about it. I don't know what happened to him. He obviously _doesn't_ want to be found."

"_Don't be this way, Kanda. He cares about you and I know you care about him, so why don't you just drop the tough guy act? What do you mean, 'He doesn't want to be found.'?"_

"I already told you everything he told me. He left all on his own – he wasn't fucking abducted or anything. When you find him, make sure you keep him alive long enough for me to kill him, though. If I had known his disappearing would make you this annoying, I would have tied him to the kitchen chair."

Maybe that's why Alma's sorry. Because his leaving made Bak a fucking bother.

More of a bother than he already was.

Bak sighs on the other end. "_Fine. Not to the letting you kill him part, though. If you hear anything or if he shows up, let me know_."

"Fine. Whatever."

He hangs up after that, leaning back in the couch and sighing. Marie's over in the kitchen, making himself a glass of juice or some shit, looking for all the world like there's something he wants to say. Kanda's grateful that the large man has been around him as long as he has and realizes that, if anything, Kanda definitely wouldn't want to talk about what happened. Even more, he wouldn't want to get lectured about it.

Crossing his arms, he realizes that there's no way in hell Marie is going to let him anywhere near the NOAH or his own findings about them. All that work…even if he had lost himself in it, he can't deny that he got shit done. He was close. So close that he could go after them now, but…Something isn't right. Not ready. Even though that need for revenge still sits warm and active in his chest, it's not erupting just yet.

Marie sits down next to him on the couch, proffering a second glass of juice to Kanda. Begrudgingly, Kanda takes it, if only because he hasn't had anything to drink since the hospital this morning.

"How are you?" Marie asks, and Kanda thinks he's been asked that way too much lately. He's never letting himself get sick again, merely because he hates the damn worrying his peers seem to feel the need to impose on him.

"Fine," he grumbles, knocking back half the glass in one go.

"You don't seem fine."

He knows Marie has this weird sixth sense that probably came when he went blind. It's a kind of empathy, and okay, _maybe_ Marie has just had to make up for not seeing by using his other four sense to perceive things, but he's abnormally spot on most of the time. It's almost as if he can know when Kanda's feeling anxious by listening to his heartbeat or some shit like that, but that's too close to science fiction for Kanda's liking.

Truthfully, he does feel off. He's _been_ feeling off for months. Goddamit, for years.

Staring into the glass of juice, Kanda scowls. Obviously not for Marie's sake – he can't see Kanda's expression – but it makes him feel a bit better if he can express himself as he normally would. "Maybe I would be more fine if people would stop fuckin' pestering me. Why can't people just leave me alone?"

"Because we love you," Marie answers simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And when people love you, they worry about you."

"Thanks for the update," Kanda grumbles under his breath.

"I wish you would talk to us, Kanda." His voice is soothing, Kanda supposes, and he can just barely remember a time, just after coming to America, when Marie's deep, jazzy voice served as a lullaby alongside their black piano. He'd been playing around the city at that time, and practiced every night he didn't work. It was the best sleep Kanda could ask for after everything that had happened. "You never let us in…I still don't know everything that happened to you overseas, and I was even there with you for a good portion of the time."

"Let's keep it that way," he returns. "It's my business." Marie hadn't been in that facility for very long before the incident with Alma, and Tiedoll's escape with them to America. Daisya came not too long after that, and Chaoji years later.

Marie doesn't say anything to that, and maybe it's because he agrees, but the silence that follows is not the least bit comfortable. "How is Allen?"

"How should I know?" He snarls, counting the bricks in the wall. He can feel Marie's stare on him; even if the man is blind he is staring right into his very being. "He's alive," he says after a moment. "If you're asking about his music or whatever, I don't know."

And, he doesn't. He honestly knows nothing about the current Allen. What he's done or who he's friends with at that vocational music school he's at. The Allen he knows is still seventeen and he's still goading him into the dark waters off the coast of Biloxi, still offering him lighters from abnormally tight jean pockets, still crying, still reaching out to him as the NOAH pull him away. Maybe this Allen is the same, even though it's been nearly a year since some of those things happened.

"Perhaps you should learn again," Marie says simply before taking a sip of his drink. And maybe Marie really does have some paranormal sixth sense, maybe he can read brainwaves or energies or some stupid shit like that because he honestly feels like the man is targeting the very innards of his mind.

Sipping lightly at his own glass, he mulls it over in his head; thinks about it, finally, because avoiding the topic just isn't working for him anymore. Not thinking was so much easier before, but now, when it's being shoved in his face, it's takes a lot more effort just to ignore it. Now, when he's even admitted it fully to himself that he's past the point of no return when it comes to how to feels about Allen.

He doesn't want to. Honestly doesn't want to feel a goddamn thing for the kid, because otherwise it's rather terrifying. Terrifying in the sense that the whole thing is just a shit-pile of ambiguity and unknowns. Allen's not just some sure thing that he fucks one time, or even ten or a hundred times, and then drops at the way-side when he's satisfied.

And maybe things would be just a bit easier if he didn't completely reek of the NOAH. If they weren't attached to him like glue. Kanda senses that _someone_ is going to die when the NOAH reveal themselves again, and that's not okay with him. There's absolutely no point in pursuing something that's so destined to end anyway, and that's one of the reasons why he cut things off in the first place. He always _knew_ that Allen had no idea about the NOAH, knew in the back of his mind. That's not what he was really suspicious of. But he did know that the NOAH wanted Allen, and even if Allen refused, they were going to do their damndest to have their way.

His obsessive research was never really _just_ about revenge. Even if he repeated to himself over and over again that it was.

"Kanda?" Marie brings him out of his reverie, and he glances over at his brother. "Your phone is ringing."

He realizes, suddenly, that it is, and he blinks a few times before picking it up to look at the caller ID. It's pointless, though. It's a blocked number.

He answers anyway, a strange feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, something like apprehension. "What?"

"_Such a rude way to answer the phone_," comes the voice on the other end. It's girlish, young, and he remembers exactly who it belongs to.

"Rhode."

"_Oh, you remembered me! How exciting! But, listen, I didn't just call for a little chat_," she says in her sing-song soprano. _"I was actually curious if you wanted to go on a little double date with me. See, my father just doesn't think I'm old enough to go on my own, but I'd just _**kill **_to be able to actually go on a date with Allen."_

His breath catches in his throat, anger and possessiveness coursing through his body like flames. "What the fuck are you talking about?" It's just like the NOAH to pull shit like this, threatening him just after he's been released from the hospital.

"_Oh, don't worry,"_ she says, off-handedly. "_You'll get someone, too, and I wouldn't be so cruel as to make you have a blind date. You and Alma can have your own great time while Allen and I have ours_." She pauses, and Kanda wonders if she can _hear_ him seething. Alma is with them, too. "_This isn't the grand finale or anything_," she tells him. "_It's just that I really _miss_ Allen. And I'm sure your best friend is missing you already, too. So, how's about you meet us three at around, say, eight o' clock tonight? We'll take our meal on the Creole Queen. Dress your Sunday best!"_

"The fucking riverboat? What the fuck are yo-" But the line is already dead.

Snarling, he shoves his phone in his pocket and races to his bedroom, stripping off his clothes that smell of hospital and switching them out for something befitting.

A NOAH is going to die tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>Had to split the chapter up, because it was getting way too long. So here is chapter seven - shit gets real next chapter.<strong>

**See you then :) **


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

><p>Flipping his bangs back from his eyes, Kanda steps onto the platform that will lead him to the Creole Queen. He's never been on a riverboat before, but Marie informed him that boarding takes place at seven, because eight o' clock is when it departs. It doesn't go far, just around the Mississippi, but he's still anxious. Being surrounded by all that dirty, churning water makes him want to throw up. He's never been good with this fuckin' river.<p>

When he sees the man taking tickets, all he has to give is his name and he's let through. He even has someone bow low at the waist and say, "The Lady Rhode will be meeting you in the King's Dining Hall shortly. If you'd like to wait at the bar, the bartender has been instructed to serve you free drinks."

He's being treated awfully nice for an enemy, and that thought puts him on edge. He walks across the boarded floor, trying to disregard the water as it splashes against the side of the boat, and follows the man to large, Victorian style double doors. Above the doors is a large plaque reading 'King's Room.' With one last suspicious glance at the man, who looks _way_ too fucking happy, he pushes the doors open and walks inside. It's mostly empty, with tables and tables and dozens of slip-covered chairs. The bar is long and wooden, with gold railings and glasses hanging from its top; any brand of whiskey, rum, vodka, lager that he can think of is there, and even names and alcohols he's never even heard of sit stationary and in varying degrees of fullness. There's a singular bartender there, another one or two may come as it gets closer to eight, and he smiles amiably as Kanda sits in one of the abnormally comfortable chairs.

"Is there anything I can get you, Sir?"

"I'm fine," he grumbles, resting his head in his palm. Honestly, he doesn't need his mind clouded tonight, even he knows that. Before, in his own home, it was fine then, but not here. Not in the Lion's Den. Any one or all of the NOAH could be here, watching him, stalking him.

Or maybe he's absolutely no threat to them at all. Maybe it's just the small girl alone, and they're betting on Kanda being too fucking kind to rip her goddamn head off. But they're wrong. His expression darkens, he feels the scowl, and catches an odd look from the bartender. Pursing his lips, he crosses his legs and looks away, pulling out his phone and trying to figure out something, anything about the layout of the boat. He'll never admit out loud just how awful this place makes him feel. Something about it. Something is just so off. Like a New Orleans cemetery mid-October, it's just giving off creepy vibes.

He soon finds that there's not much the internet can tell him about the boat, just normal things, like the history and what jazz band is playing that evening. He glances through the dinner menu when he's done reading every little thing on the website, and then simply locks his phone and shoves it back in his pocket. Only about half an hour more.

"Are you sure there's nothing I can help you with?" The bartender asks again. "Would you like me to put on the television while you wait for Lady Rhode and her guests?"

"Whatever," he returns, and finds that television would be both a good and bad thing simultaneously. Good because he's bored as hell, but bad because it's going to dull his awareness. Even if he doesn't want to, he's going to be drawn to the noise and light. Even something as menial as soap operas would take up his attention right now.

The bartender shrugs and flips the television above the bar on, then turns up the sound a bit and leans back to watch it as well. He channel surfs, finally landing on some program showcasing trinkets. They're trivial things worth a lot of money, mostly; Kanda wonders why anyone in their right minds would pay so much for so little. Who gives a shit about a handkerchief some dead guy blew his nose into? It's stupid.

By the time eight rolls around, the room starts to get a little busier. He feels a tad underdressed, only in his most decent jeans and a slightly more decent button-down, but he quickly finds that he doesn't care. He keeps his eyes trained on the door, but the most terrifying bit is when he feels a light tap on his shoulder and spins on his heel to find himself face to face with Allen Walker.

Rhode is next to him, dressed in a charcoal gray dress with frills and other girly things, and she leans back on her heels, her small dark hand retreating from where it had been near his shoulder. She's so much shorter than them, he realizes suddenly, and is struck by something strange. How old is this girl, thrown into a web of death and lies and pain?

But it doesn't make his determination waver, at least not for very long.

"Good evening," she smiles, and he notices after a moment that Alma is on her other side; the two boys are flanking her right and left.

"Hey, Yu," Alma smiles, sadly. "Good to see you again. I honestly thought it would be a while longer, but Rhode is a bit…"

"Now, now, Alma," she grins, folding her hands in front of her. "I'm sure Kanda doesn't want to hear all of that." A girlish giggle spills from her lips. "Why don't we take our seats? I believe our table is next to the window." Even though her body is petite, her tone is older. It's firm and dominant, commanding to a degree Kanda nearly finds strange. She's playful, but at the same time…dangerous. He can feel it. He'd never really _listened_ to her before, when she showed up.

He follows them as they walk, and he's oddly aware of Allen's posture. Defensive, but…strong. Like he's scared but is willing to seem like he's not in front of this small girl. He doesn't say anything, and Kanda's almost glad for that. Alma, though, Alma's stance is very different. He doesn't seem nervous, just, perhaps, depressed. As if he's being forced to do this and at the very same time completely free to walk away if he wished. As if he has simply decided to do something he doesn't want to do because it is what he must do. Personally what he must do. He can practically feel the dissonance coming off him in waves, and it's an energy he's never seen in Alma. Alma Karma is never defeated. Alma Karma is stronger than that.

Rhode sits down in a chair closest to the window, and Allen sits next to her. Alma and Kanda sit next to each other on the opposite side.

Silence prevails for at least the next five minutes, until a waiter comes by to take their orders. Kanda isn't hungry in the least – in no way, shape, or form and maybe it's because of how little he ate the past few weeks and his stomach's just shrunk, but the mere thought of sitting and eating in front of this girl makes him want to jump overboard. And he's not a very strong swimmer. He orders anyway, however, for what reason he's not sure. He's not going to eat it – it's going to get wasted, but he is of firm belief that all of their meals are going to be that way sans Rhode's. Even Allen. There is something in his eyes that makes it seem like even he has no appetite tonight.

"Allen," Rhode starts once the waiter is gone. She turns a bit in his seat, her body language not betraying her suggestive tone towards him. What is she, thirteen? But no. No, just because she is small means nothing. Allen's eighteen, but to someone who doesn't know him he maybe looks sixteen. It's in those eyes and that small but toned body. And Rhode? He lets his eyes openly survey her, and he puts her at, perhaps, somewhere around sixteen or seventeen, even if she's maybe only five feet tall. "Oh," she stops before she goes on with whatever she was going to say to Allen to address Kanda. It wasn't like he was being sneaky with his appraisal. "Is there something you're interested in, Kanda?"

He sneers. "Just wondering if Beansprout was going to be carted off to jail."

"I like to think I live above the law," she smiles back, and while it's nearly childish, there's underlying sadism in it. He senses it more than sees it. As if all the things he was trained for when he was younger are rearing their ugly, observant heads. But he's probably just restless, and that's heightening his senses. "And I'm sixteen."

He shrugs and looks out the window. The boat's started to move. He can barely feel it under his feet, but somehow, watching the piers pass, watching the GNO bridge get larger and larger, seems to make it easier to perceive. Reminds him that time hasn't completely stopped. Reminds him that this is very real.

Alma, next to him, shifts. "It's good to see that you're better," the brown-haired boy says, happily. But it seems forced. He knows Alma, likes to think he maybe knows him better than anyone else, and that is not what Alma sounds like when he's happy. That's what Alma sounds like when he's strapped down to a table and is trying to make light of the drugs coursing through their small bodies.

He shakes his head, repelling the thoughts, and replies. "Yeah, thanks _so_ much for calling the stupid rabbit."

"No problem," Alma laughs, and there it is. That's real. It relieves some of the tension that's coiled up tight in his chest. "I figured it was either him or Marie, and I didn't want to give your sweet older brother a heart attack. He's been through enough."

Kanda doesn't say anything to that, mainly because he has no witty retort. It's true. All of them have been.

"Anyway," Rhode cuts in. "Allen." The white-haired boy looks at her, trepidation making his chrome eyes waver. No. No, that's not quite right. Allen is a fighter. It's why he tolerates him. Fine, slightly more than tolerates, but... "I was wondering if you might show off for me a little, tonight. Since it is our first date."

Now, Kanda has to clench his teeth to keep himself from saying anything. If he thought it at all possible, he would have already catapulted himself over the table and wrung her neck. There are so many bells and whistles that go off in his mind when it comes to her. So many warnings that shine brightly at the forefront.

Allen looks confused. "What do you…"

"You're playing, of course! You know, your uncle, I remember, was a great Musician. He could play the piano like no other. And while I've gotten mild little tastes of your talent, I would really enjoy a full-course meal tonight." She looks up at him with dreamy eyes, and Allen shrinks back a bit.

"Um…"

"Go on, Allen," Alma urges. "I'd like to hear you play as well."

Allen looks over at Kanda then, and it's the first time they've actually locked eyes all night. The boy seems to plead with him silently, and to hell with everything if he's not going to at least _try_ to help ease his tension slightly. "Lay off," he snaps to Alma, careful not to look at Rhode, but to keep his eyes trained everywhere but her. It's not as though he's _scared_ of her, just wary. He doesn't want to tempt his fate by staring into those bright, amber eyes. "He obviously doesn't want to."

"Hey," Alma returns, puffing out his cheeks in offense. "How is it fair that I never get to hear him? Here's a hint: it's not!"

"I don't give a shit about what's fair," Kanda snarls, crossing his arms.

"Kanda," Rhode starts slowly, steepling her fingers and resting her chin on them. "I'd really love to hear Allen play tonight. And it sounds like Alma is _dying_ to as well."

That's a threat if he's ever heard one, screaming loud and clear for him to back down. And, reluctantly he does. There couldn't really be any harm in Beansprout playing one song, could there be? There could, however, be harm in defying her directly. No, he's not going to fight back until he's ready. Until the perfect time when they're not in a room full of people who may or may not be affiliated with the NOAH.

"Right, um, well in that case," Allen starts, a weird smile on his face. "I'd, uh, love to."

"Great!" She exclaims, nearly bouncing in her seat, giving off the image of an excited child. "Oh, Allen, I'm so excited now!"

He laughs, nervously. "Yeah…"

A part of Kanda is just waiting for Allen and Alma to stand up and scream, "Kidding!" – to stare at Rhode with hardened, unwavering eyes and fight back. Another part of him just wants to get off this fucking boat with both of them in tow. But he's not one to back down. No way in hell is he going to back off.

Snarling, he crosses his arms and looks out of the window again; it's dark already, and the lights of the city are the only things illuminating the water. He knows once they get further down the river, everything will be immersed in darkness except for the boat itself and maybe the surrounding four feet. Two more hours. Just two more hours and then they'll be docking – more than enough time to find a nice, cozy place to snap her neck. Maybe then those two idiots will see why it's better to fight.

Time passes slowly. So slowly that when he checks his phone, thinking it's been at least an hour, it's only been a good twenty minutes. He scoffs, rolling his eyes, trying not to show everyone at the table just how ruffled his feathers are. It's soon after this that the food comes and he just stares down at it with a critical eye. It's not that it looks bad, quite the opposite he'll admit – but how in the hell could he ever eat something in this place, cooked by chefs most likely in the employment of the NOAH?

Soft jazz music plays, thankfully overriding their mildly uncomfortable silence as Rhode lightly grazes her jambalaya. As he suspected, even Allen's not eating, but there is a new look in his eyes. And it's not pathetic. It's maybe even slightly…exciting. He looks as though he's just had some revolutionary thought that's completely changed the way he's viewing the situation and he's itching to do _something_. He looks at Kanda again and Kanda doesn't look away, holds his gaze. Allen's solid, silver-blue eyes soften a bit after a moment, and then he smiles lightly and leans back in his seat.

It's a complete one-eighty, but Kanda's not complaining.

When they're finished eating – more accurately, when Rhode is – she wipes her mouth on a napkin and stands, nearly vibrating with her enthusiasm. "Allen, Allen, are you ready?"

"Hmm, yeah," he nods. "Whenever you are."

She jumps up, beaming, and sprints off towards the jazz band playing in the corner. She folds her hands behind her back and bends down, looking like a child asking their parents for a toy in a store. How is it that she's so bipolar? Can be so serious one moment and then so playful the next.

She bounds back next to them, dodging tables and guests, and grabs Allen's hand. She yanks him back towards the small set and seemingly begins introducing everyone. Kanda immediately follows, not at all liking how close she is to Allen. There's no fucking way he's going to let her alone with him.

Alma, though, stays exactly where they stood. Doesn't move a bit. His expression is neutral and there's something reminiscent about it. He pushes it to the back of his mind.

He's next to Rhode in seconds, watching Allen sit down in front of an upright piano and straighten his posture. For a few beats, he does nothing, looking at the ivory keys as if burning their image into his brain – and then he plays.

It's a simple tune, something jazzy to follow whatever the small trio band was playing before. For as simple as it is, though, there's something masterful about it, and Kanda briefly wonders just _how much_ the boy has improved. He vaguely remembers Lavi making some comment about Allen being just as immersed in the piano as Kanda was in learning the trade secrets of the NOAH, though. And if Allen was devoting that much time to a musical instrument, it's no wonder he sounds this way now.

The tempo picks up slightly, very slightly, and Kanda watches Allen's fingers roll down the keys, picking out the right ones so quickly Kanda's sure he's not even remembering them in his mind. He's letting muscle memory do all the work. His fingers just seem to know where to go.

When he's finished playing, the room erupts in light applause, and Allen stands and bows slightly before walking off the small dais and stopping when he's not a foot from Kanda. "Oh that was wonderful!" Rhode cries out, leaping up to wrap her arms around Allen's neck. "You really _are_ special."

The actual band begins playing again, something soft and romantic, and Kanda immediately fucking hates that her arms are around the Beansprout. She sways lightly, giggling, and when she tucks her head into Allen's neck, the boy looks over at Kanda with slightly amused and slightly confused eyes. Definitely not worried, though.

Harrumphing, Kanda looks away from them, over at Alma, who still hasn't moved. "Kanda, you should go back to your date," Rhode informs him. "I need time with mine. We're gonna dance."

Snarling, Kanda looks back at her, but catches Allen's firm stare. Telling him to listen and fuck that if he's going to listen to some –

He feels a hand on his arm and notices suddenly that Alma is next to him. "Oh, come on, Yu. You don't want to dance with little ole' me?" How he got through the crowd that fast is beyond Kanda, but he pays no mind to it.

"Not really, no."

"Aw, why not? Didn't you dance with Allen before? Is it because you like him more than you like me?"

Kanda rolls his eyes. "Shut up."

"Come on, Allen, you lead," he hears from not too far away. She's dragging him towards the open space and he follows near dutifully; there's a look on his face though that Kanda can't place. It's not compliance, that's for sure.

"_Yuuuuu_~"

"Ugh, fine!" He growls, taking Alma's hand in his and placing another on his waist. "One fuckin' dance, and that's it."

Alma smirks, nodding. "That's all I asked for."

Even though he's been in a coma for over a decade, Alma's not entirely awful at dancing Kanda finds. At least not as awful as he thought he would be; he doesn't step on his feet, doesn't miss any important steps, just follows along with Kanda's lead.

It's just that Kanda is way too focused on Allen and Rhode's dance, and he's not even being discreet about it. Alma doesn't say anything, just continues to smile and whisk around, like he's not bothered by it. And maybe he isn't. Kanda honestly can't find it in him to care too much. He's not big on dancing, even though it seems that he's been doing it more often lately. Before Allen, he'd _never_ really danced, though he'd known how for quite some time due to Tiedoll.

When the song ends, they separate and Alma bows low at the waist. "Thank you for that lovely dance, M'Lady."

Kanda sneers at him. "You were the fuckin' girl, Dipshit."

The man just gives him a snarky smile in return.

Then Rhode calls him and the expression disappears; he walks back to her side and doesn't say another word.

Time passes, time spent idly walking around, watching for any signs of foul play, for anyone suspicious; Rhode skips around merrily, spouting off facts about the boat. He's almost sure that he catches a glimpse of another familiar looking NOAH at one point, a female with long, dark hair and gleaming eyes behind sunglasses. He stops suddenly, spinning on his heel, but she's gone as quickly as she came.

By the time it's gotten so dark it's impossible to see without the lights from the boat, their small host stops. "Follow me," Rhode smiles, twirling, her dress swaying with the motion. "I think it's time for the real entertainment!"

Kanda frowns deeply. Entertainment? For a NOAH like her, that could be anything from Disney Channel to murder. As she bounds towards the steps towards the roof, he begins to suspect something along the lines of the latter. He follows close behind Allen and Alma, completely alert, his dark eyes darting left and right for any sign of danger. There don't seem to be any, however, and when they get to the top of the riverboat, it seems there isn't a soul in sight. Maybe _that']s_ the danger, though…

Rhode gives him a furtive glance, then leans over and whispers something in Allen's ear. The boy frowns at that, and furrows his eyebrows. "But…"

"Nope!" She exclaims, smiling. She hops over the white railing and meanders across the roof. He pushes himself over and follows.

He has the distinct feeling that people aren't really supposed to be outside the small gate, but Rhode doesn't seem to mind as she strolls forward, Alma flanking her side. Allen stands alone, by the steps behind the fence.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" Rhode asks, looking upwards. "It's a shame our time here is nearing its end. Look, I can see the Crescent City Connection a few miles up." She smiles, closing her eyes. "I would have loved to get to spend this time with Allen alone, but I'll take what I can get." Turning towards Kanda, her soft smiles grows…nearly sadistic. She snaps her fingers, once. "Alma."

It's some sort of command, judging by the inflection of her voice. Kanda feels the bloodlust, knows that now is the time. She's dangling the opportunity in front of him, and fuck if he's not going to take it. Even if it's a trap, he doesn't really care. She _needs_ to die.

He narrows his eyes, taking a step towards her; Alma suddenly blocks her from his vision, though. He's stock still, and Kanda must be imagining how tall he suddenly looks. How grown-up and – fuck not a child anymore. It's almost enough to sober him up, make him slow down and think things through.

Almost.

But not quite.

"Get the fuck out of my way," He snarls, glaring at Alma. His old friend seems unperturbed. He has this odd look on his face, so serious and decidedly un-Alma-like. "Move!" He doesn't. Doesn't even blink.

Allen speaks up now. "Alma, what are you doing? Why won't you answer me when I ask you?!" Alma doesn't acknowledge that Allen said anything at all. "Why are you siding with them!?"

It makes sense, suddenly. Well, maybe not suddenly. It's been there all night, poking and prodding him, but he didn't want to accept it. He ignored the signs because he didn't want it to be true. And if nothing else, he's always been good at avoiding things he definitely doesn't want to face.

But, Alma? That fucking dumbass? He can't even tie his shoes right, eats mayonnaise straight from the jar, dances in circles and laughs even when people are watching. It doesn't seem to add up right.

"You look a tad confused," Rhode giggles from behind the subject of his thoughts. "Well, you look a tad _angry_, really, but…"

"What the fuck are you talking about," he snaps. "I don't wanna hear your stupid voice until you're begging for your life!"

"Oh, you mean like _Daisya_ did? Like your daddy did?" She mocks, and maybe at some point in time he had some semblance of thought, but now everything in him is red. There are no singular thought processes; nothing beyond imagining her death, anyway. "I'm tellin' ya, Kanda, it was gruesome, what we did to your poor family." She peeks her head out from behind Alma. "And the saddest part is that," she shrugs, pausing. "You're next." She snaps again.

The sound rings through the night air, and Kanda bolts forward, his fingers itching to wrap around her throat and drag the life out of her. But Alma intercepts him, guarding Rhode behind him and narrowing his eyes. Kanda can't even function enough to stop himself – he runs his fist right into Alma's nose, making him stumble back just slightly.

It's like a switch. Within seconds, Alma is back on him, bringing up a kick that connects with his right hip and makes him teeter dangerously close to the edge of the roof. The waters of the Mississippi churn dangerously below and he scrambles to keep himself from falling, if only because his death would mean Rhode's escape. And he can't afford to let something like _death_ keep him from ending her.

He exhales harshly though his nose, trying to get around Alma to the girl behind, but Alma went through the training, too. Everything that Kanda can do, Alma can do, too. And he can be more ruthless about it, when it comes down to it. Kanda still sometimes dreams of the bodies littered around Alma, that attack that meant nothing and yet everything, and the worst part is that he still doesn't know why.

Is it this? The NOAH? Was it always the NOAH? From day one?

The thought that slithers in past his anger makes it easier to slam Alma's head against the metal roof. It doesn't deter the brunette, though, and Alma snaps back up, grabbing Kanda's arm and twisting it dangerously quick. He's able to spin out of it before something snaps, but the muscles are pulled, and he scoffs as the pain shoots up through his bicep.

He steps back a bit, glaring at Alma, letting his mind stay hazy with anger; tiny thoughts slip through the cracks, but they only serve to make it worse. The longer they stare at each other, the more betrayed Kanda feels. And it just keeps growing and growing until he can feel it in his fingertips.

The worst part about it is that Alma – he never really doubted Alma for even a second. After all of the things he did, after those people he killed after turning on him all those years ago…seeing him again made him wary, but he still _trusted_ Alma. Perhaps it was just because of what they went through together, or maybe it was something else, but he feels so fucking stupid now.

He's an idiot, for trusting someone who didn't deserve it and not trusting someone who did.

With that, he loses it – and he's the angriest at himself, but that doesn't stop him from snarling and going at Alma. He raises his fist, snapping his arm forward and slamming a punch into Alma's left cheek; the man stumbles from the ferocity of it, but he's not out for long. It's almost like nothing Kanda will do can faze him, but that thought doesn't get across. All that's in his head is a mixture of bloodlust and fury. He just wants to _hurt_ something.

Alma comes at him from his right, and he doesn't dodge, if only because it allows him to strike back. The pain from his punch blossoms across his ribcage, but he disregards it, grabbing Alma by the neck and pressing his thumbs against the other man's windpipe.

They fumble to the ground, and Alma fights back kicking and punching, but Kanda doesn't relent. Alma's movements slow, and then he passes out.

Kanda stays like that for a moment, coming down from his episode, and then stands, watching Alma's body carefully. He knows that body. Knows it as his own. And something like this couldn't kill him.

A slow clap starts from somewhere behind him and he turns, suddenly remembering where they are and who they're with. Rhode leans against the railing, one hand rested on Allen's arm. How she got around them while they were fighting is beyond him. "Good job, Kanda." She smiles. "I'm actually…hmm, I think I'm surprised."

He's already started stomping towards her, but she doesn't seem frightened. She should be.

He's just barely climbed over the railing when hands grab him from behind and pull him back, flipping him over and slamming him to the ground. He coughs, the wind knocked out of him, and wearily looks up at his assailant. Alma, eyes cold as ever, stares down at him.

Allen's voice carries across the air. "Kanda!"

"Che, I'm…fine," he coughs offhandedly, holding his side and standing.

"I'll let you take this round," Rhode giggles. "But if you keep trying to come after me, something bad is going to happen."

He glares at her, but keeps Alma in the corner of his eye.

Without a word, he steps over the railing – this time successfully – and grabs Allen by the arm, dragging him through the stairwell and down to the bottom decks.

"Don't forget to call me!" Rhode screams, with mirth.

As they pass under the Mississippi bridge, he knows the riverboat is about to dock. And he's more than fucking ready to be off the goddamn thing.

* * *

><p>He's breathing so heavily it could be mistaken for hyperventilating. He bounds off the platform, Allen's hand in his, and together they run out of Spanish Plaza and towards Canal Street. Further, further, until they've both run so far they can no long see the aquarium. Allen stops suddenly, heaving, and leans against a dirty brick building. "Kanda, I-"<p>

"Don't say a word," Kanda snaps, and he seizes Allen's face between his hands and draws him in for a heated kiss. The adrenaline, he knows, is coursing through his body and making him do this. It's not the time for it even a little but he wants it – wants Allen so badly that it literally hurts him.

Allen returns the kiss, wrapping his arms around Kanda's body and tightly holding them together. The tendrils of arousal snake through his body, and he feels as though he's on fire with all the desire he's suppressing. Allen groans slightly as Kanda's hands wander down, down, feeling Allen's own heat through his clothing. It's not decent, they're in public, but Kanda _doesn't care_.

Allen, apparently, does. He pushes away slightly, gasping for air. "We have to…get somewhere safe."

"Yeah?" Kanda grunts. "And where is safe, exactly?" There's nowhere. Nowhere they can go where the NOAH cannot find them. He bends his head down a little, nipping at Allen's neck, and the white-haired boy arches back slightly.

"Anywhere is better than…here…" Allen manages.

Growling, Kanda snaps away. "Fine," he snarls. "We'll…" He honestly isn't sure of where they could go, there's only one place he can even think of at the moment. Marie's apartment. It's where he's staying, and it's far enough from the river. "Come on," he says finally, grabbing Allen's arm again and dragging him further down Canal. They finally stop at Carrolton, to catch their breath again. Should've actually taken a bus or some shit. This is way too far to walk and his hips are starting to hurt from the battle. He's going to be so fucking sore tomorrow.

But they continue on, all the way down to Claiborne. When they finally reach Marie's house, every fiber of Kanda's body is on full alert. It's dark. So dark that they only way they can see is from the street lamps. It's got to be well past midnight, and there's no way he's going to feel safe right now, with Allen pressed close to one side of him and empty blackness everywhere else. The NOAH could come after them at any second.

Kanda raps on Marie's door only once before it swings open and Kanda pulls the white-haired boy inside. He must be able to sense their apprehension because he asks, "Kanda, what happened? Allen is with you?"

"It's…Goddamit. Fucking shit." He releases Allen only to run both hands through his hair. The adrenaline hasn't worn off yet, and all he can do is pace circles in the middle of the living room. Alma. Fucking _Alma_. How – how could that even be motherfucking possible?

"Kanda," Allen starts, same as back when they were storming down Canal. "I'm sorry about…"

No. No, he doesn't want to hear any motherfucking apologies. That's not at all what he wants. What he wants is Alma to carry his happy ass back over to their side. Enough with all this bullshit. _The NOAH cannot have anything else that's his_. They cannot keep taking away these people in his life.

He must look absolutely crazy. Out of his mind. But he doesn't care. He's about to rip his goddamn hair out he's so frustrated, so angry. _So fucking miserable_. "Kanda!" Allen exclaims, grabbing both of his arms and bringing them down from his head. "Calm down. You're going to give yourself an aneurysm."

Kanda just stares at him for a bit, unable to really process any singular words. His entire body is rebelling against the entire situation, to the point where it physically hurts. Allen's fingernails dig into his wrists and with every second that passes, Kanda finds himself retreating into a weird and anti-social mood – one where he doesn't want to talk to anyone, doesn't want to see anyone. Just wants to be left alone.

But Allen refuses to let him pull away; even when he yanks, Allen's hands just tighten further. Kanda's not going to admit that it bothers him at all, though Allen will know and apologize for the bruises later, he's sure. "Beansprout," he finally manages out. "Let me go."

"No," Allen retorts, expression firm. "The last time I let you go you disappeared to Japan."

As if he'd go there again.

"It's just my goddamn room," he snarls, throwing himself from Allen's grasp fully; he's only slightly surprised that the small boy has that kind of grip. He doesn't let himself dwell.

Turning on his heel, he storms into the room, leaving Marie and Allen to themselves in the living area. He sits on his bed, trying to control his breathing and going through the steps to meditation in his mind. It's been a while. A long while. But he can still do it. Can still achieve some forced peace of mind, he supposes.

He's not sure how long passes. When he opens his eyes again, the clock on his bedside table reads two o' seven, so it just depends on what time they got back to the apartment. He's never really been one to meditate for longer than forty minutes to an hour, though, so perhaps close to one? It was definitely after midnight.

Sighing, he stands from his place on the bed and runs a hand through his bangs. They're greasy, he feels, most likely from the sweat. It's not necessarily hot during the night in March, but given everything that's happened he's not all that shocked. Stretching, completely awake, he opens the door to the bedroom and peeks out, sees Allen stretched out on the couch with a blanket draped over him. Marie must have insisted he stay the night, polite bastard.

After grabbing some clothes, Kanda silently steps from his room, making his way towards the shared bathroom with relative ease. He doesn't need the Beansprout waking up.

He drops his clothes unceremoniously onto the small countertop next to the sink and strips, turning on the water and feeling for the temperature so he doesn't freeze himself out or burn himself alive.

He definitely feels more like himself, he notes as he steps into the tub. The shower rains down, and he tips his head back, letting the water wash away the dirt and grime from his hair before anything else. Not so…emotional, he supposes. Not that he's a fucking robot or anything, but he doesn't feel like he's drowning in them anymore. Perhaps a good meditation session was all he's needed these past few months, something to clear his head. He's been just…off.

He runs his fingers through his hair in a sad attempt to detangle it and turns to let the water splash against his face and chest.

When he's at least washed his body and feels confident that his hair won't be looking like a conglomerate mess of black he turns the shower off and steps out, toweling himself off and ringing the excess water from his hair. He dresses, quickly, and wraps his hair before sneaking out of the bathroom again and speeding off to his temporary room. He's only in it for a couple of seconds before he hears a tentative knock on his door.

Great. Someone must have woken the fuck up.

"What do you want?" He asks, and he has a feeling it's Allen, because Marie would know it would be better to just leave him alone. Especially if he was meditating.

"I was just wondering if you were okay," Allen returns. "Can I come in?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I'm fucking naked. Go back to sleep, Beansprout."

"I know you aren't naked, Kanda. I just saw you come out of the bathroom dressed. Besides, it's not like you have anything I haven't seen before."

Grumbling at Allen's cheeky little response, Kanda stalks up to his bedroom door and swings it open; the Beansprout is there, blanket wrapped around his thin shoulders and a weird expression on his face. "Does Marie always keep it subzero in this apartment?"

"It feels fine to me."

"You lived in a house without heating for nearly a month, you have no say in what's cold and what's not."

"What do you want, Dumbass?"

Allen pouts, shoving past Kanda and entering the room. "I honestly wanted to see how you were doing but you seem…fine. More than fine. You seem normal. I haven't seen you like this since last year."

"Did you expect to find me in here bawling my eyes out like some girl?"

"Kind of. Kanda, you've been through a lot. And I know an hour of meditation and a shower isn't going to make it all better."

"Well don't be stupid," Kanda snarls back. "Of fucking course not. But harping on it doesn't help either. And not harping was something I'd resolved myself to do before that goddamn fucking Rhode went and-"

"Ah! Hold on, don't go getting yourself all worked up again."

"What the hell do you want from me? Holy shit, you're worse than a goddamn woman."

"At least I don't _look_ like a woman."

"Are you saying I look like a woman?"

"Maybe I…" Allen starts, but then he stops. He stops for a good twenty seconds before he just starts cracking up laughing, holding his stomach and leaning forward. Kanda thought he was the one that was going to go insane first, but looks like the Beansprout beat him to it. "This is…rich!" Allen exclaims, wiping tears from his eyes, still laughing. "I don't think we've really argued like this in months."

"We argue all the fuckin' time if you haven't forgotten. Jeez, you have a memory like a woman, too."

"Stop that," Allen chides, smiling like an idiot. "Just because you're completely gay, it doesn't mean you have to hate on women."

"I'm not hating on them. I'm stating facts."

Allen snorts. "Asshole. Anyway, Sure we argue, it's just that…" he looks down at his hands. "You can't tell me things have been the same between us since…damn since Daisya died, really. That was eight months ago. This is closer to…inane bickering, I guess. I don't know. But this is a good sign. A sign that…even though all this shit is happening, it's still…we can still be…"

Kanda sighs and sits down on the bed next to him. "What, normal?" He asks, half-snappy half-serious. "There's no way things will ever be like they were, Beansprout. Even if the NOAH completely disappeared, things would never be the same." He crosses his arms. "I don't know why you have to expect so fucking much."

"I'm not expecting much at all," Allen starts. "I don't think it's too much to ask that things get to be…okay again. That's what I was going to say. Not normal. We've never been normal. But 'okay' is something I think we can achieve."

Okay? When will things be okay? He'd like to know when he'll be able to think about Alma again without those tinges of anger and betrayal. When he'll be able to study again. When he'll be able to listen to music with some semblance of caring again. For now, it's all he can do just to stay afloat. To not let the cracks in his mind extend any further.

Allen turns his body towards Kanda's, and the dark-haired man finds himself growing slightly apprehensive. He knows where this is going. He's not a child. He's not innocent. And even if there's a strange feeling settling in his stomach, he's not going to back away again. Because he wants Allen. He does. And he has. And there's no force in the world that could stop that. The NOAH or even his own attitude.

The Beansprout wipes away a piece of wet hair sticking to his cheek and smiles. "One day, we'll be able to be in peace – I know it. The NOAH…will not control our future. I don't know how long it'll take, six months or six years, but one day it'll happen."

"Goddamit, Beansprout…" Kanda growls. "Your optimism is as annoying as ever." And it is, if only because there's a different thing Kanda wants Allen's mouth to be doing. He grabs his dark left hand, then, and pulls him forward slightly. The boy smiles turns into something of a smirk, then, and he uses his free hand to wrap around Kanda's neck as his rough fingers interlock with his.

"I wouldn't say you're all _that_ annoyed," Allen chuckles, and the distance between them is maddening. Their lips aren't touching, but they're close enough to where Kanda can feel Allen's breath on him. "I just want to point out," he continues, inching closer. "That when I came in here," so close that now their mouths touch, and Kanda can feel Allen muttering. "I had no illicit intentions."

"Liar," Kanda snaps, pushing Allen backwards on the bed and pressing their mouths together harshly. If he hadn't, then what was he sensing? It definitely wasn't all in his head. He wouldn't have _projected_ that. That's just not how he is. Wishful thinking isn't something he does, even when he wants nothing more than to partake in something that will clear his mind and make him forget about Alma.

Allen's left hand and his right stay together, but he allows his other hand to wander; he lets his fingertips glide under Allen's shirt and over his side, amused when the boy shivers under the touch. Their fervent kiss is arousing to a degree Kanda had forgotten, with their tongues pressing together and teeth knocking. He breathes harshly through his nose, refusing to part from Allen's mouth, and his hand wanders to another part of the smooth, pale body underneath him.

He can practically _taste_ Allen's moan as he runs his hands against his nipples. He rolls one between his fingers before letting his nail scratch the sensitive area lightly; Allen's body arches up into his and whether it's intentional or not doesn't really matter. Their erections graze and Kanda knows that there's no turning back at this point. It would take a flock of angels to pull them apart.

Rushing, Kanda pulls apart from Allen for just a moment to tear the boy's shirt off, and his goes soon after. Allen's fingers rest at the hem of Kanda's drawstring pants for a moment, almost as if hesitating, and then those are off too. Within seconds they're completely naked, grinding against each other; Kanda's mouth moves to Allen's neck and licks the smooth skin there before nipping at it and using his hand to grip their erections together.

Allen wraps his arms around Kanda, presses his fingertips into his back and leans his head back as far as it can against the comforter. "Kanda," he breathes, and simply hearing his name like that causes his mind to go completely blank. He can't think of anything, can only feel. Feel Allen's fingers nearly melt into his skin with their intense heat, feel his own heat swelling up in his chest and expanding at a rate that's going to swallow him whole.

He moves to kiss Allen's mouth again, vaguely aware that the boy is quivering underneath him, obviously close to finishing. He thrust blindly into his hand, the friction too sweet and almost so intense that it hurts. He grabs Allen's hand again, pressing their palms together, and feels teeth bite down on his bottom lip as Allen comes. He follows, unable to stop the heat in his chest from melting everything inside of him – it burns like how he imagines lava might, careening through his body like a wave of fire.

After a moment of harsh breathing, Kanda moves; he drags a pillow from the top of the bed to him and stuffs it under his head, not particularly caring that he's not dressed and that it's not the most comfortable position he's ever laid in. Allen doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just lays on his back breathing softly, and Kanda watches his chest rise and fall in a smooth rythym. They stay like that, silent, with Allen's eyes on the ceiling and Kanda's eyes on Allen for what feels like hours.

But it's not – when Kanda cranes his head to look at the clock, it reads two forty-seven, and it really hasn't been that long at all. Groaning lightly, he finally pushes himself up, using the towel that had been discarded from his hair to wipe himself off. Allen sits up too, grimacing at his disheveled state and Kanda rolls his eyes before cleaning him off as well. "Fucking drama queen," he mumbles, voice hoarse. "You don't need to make that face, it's not the first time you've been dirty."

Allen frowns at him for a second, but it's obviously forced, as he bursts out in soft laughter almost immediately after. "Doesn't mean I _enjoy_ it," he smiles. Kanda rolls the towel into a ball and tosses it across the room. "That's kind of gross."

"What do you want me to do, bring it to the laundry room down the hall and pay two dollars to wash one dirty cum towel?"

"Maybe."

"You fuckin'-" But he's amused more than anything, letting out a breath that could almost be considered a chuckle, were it not Kanda.

"Well," Allen sighs, falling back onto the bed, apparently feeling next to no shame in his nakedness. Not that Kanda really cares either. "Since you're Kanda and you definitely don't want to _talk_ about your problems, I guess maybe we should get some sleep? Especially since I have a class at eight tomorrow morning." He crawls onto his side, stretching.

"What the fuck, Beansprout? Why are you inviting yourself to stretch out on top of my bed like that?"

"Because I just had kind-of-not-all-the-way-but-part-of-the-way sex with you and I'm _tired_."

Kanda scoffs. "At least don't sleep on top of the fucking comforter _naked_. What if Marie decides to walk in here for some godforsaken reason?"

"He's _blind."_

"_Who the fuck cares_?" It's still weird.

Allen sighs, shaking his head. "Fine, fine." He crawls to the top the bed, slipping underneath the blanket and settling into the pillow there. Kanda snarls, throwing the pillow he'd had at the white-haired boy, who huffs as he places it next to him. "Come to bed, _Darling_."

"Shut up," Kanda snaps, but there's no malice behind it. He slides beneath the blanket as well, letting out a breath and shuffling a bit uncomfortably. Being naked in bed with the Beansprout is something he hasn't done in a while, and he's not entirely sure of what to do or how to act.

Allen helps when he smiles and scoots up closer to Kanda, intertwining their fingers and resting his head softly against his collar bone. "Good night, you insufferable man." The look in his eyes tells Kanda not to worry, tells him not to dwell on what happened that night. Even though he really hadn't suspected Alma for a second, harping on it now will prove dangerous.

He doesn't reply, just closes his eyes and falls asleep before he even realizes he was tired.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Anyway<em>. This chapter was a bit of a change of pace, I understand. I really shouldn't even plan out stories because they're constantly changing anyway. _Whatever._**

**Thanks again for all the support, loves. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I will most certainly try to get nine out by next week, but I'm not sure how well that's going to work out, as I work forever many hours this week and I just got a sugar glider and bonding with her takes up like two hours a day...**

**BUT I WILL TRY. 3**


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

He is awoken by movement and a sudden lack of warmth. He opens his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the low light of morning, and watches Allen crawl from his spot in the bed. The white haired boy frowns and glances at his phone, probably checking the time, and looks around the room for his clothes. He doesn't even notice Kanda's awake until the man sits up in bed, watching his small naked body dip down to pick up a shirt. He doesn't feel the least bit ashamed.

"Oh, good morning," Allen smiles. "I should have been more careful; I didn't mean to wake you. It's just…I'm going to be late for school."

He had completely forgotten Allen was still just a high school senior. With all the talk of music lessons and all the time he talked about sitting in front of a piano, it just slipped his mind. Not that he finds he really cares too much. Stretching, he glances over at the analog clock – **7:48**.

Allen nearly trips trying to get into a pair of jeans (he'd planned to sleep in those? Not that he really would have had anything else to sleep in…) and he shoots Kanda an embarrassed grin as his stomach grumbles loud and clear. Kanda rolls his eyes and slips from underneath the comforter, not altogether pleased at how cold it is outside of the bed, and grabs some clothes from his open suitcase they'd brought from the house on New York.

He's exhausted, he can't deny that, but that doesn't mean he's going to lie around in bed all day. Stretching once more, he suddenly feels a sharp, nagging pain in his arm and remembers the night previous all at once. His breath catches in his throat, but he otherwise doesn't react to the blooming of hurt in his chest. And he has a feeling the hurt isn't from the punch Alma aimed at his ribs.

He frowns deeply and watches Allen shove his phone in his pocket, stomach rumbling lowly, and he opens the door to his room before walking out and turning into the small kitchen. "You're already going to be late," Kanda sighs. "Might as well eat some food to shut up that fucking black hole you call a stomach."

Allen looks torn. "I…" Deciding between being a full truant and a hungry honor roll student must be hard.

"Sit the fuck down," he snarls, pointing at a chair. Allen purses his lips and gives him an aggravating look but sits down anyway. He flips through the cabinets, trying to put Alma out of his mind. "What the fuck does Marie even eat? Jesus Christ." There's admittedly a lot stocking the cabinets, but it's all ingredients and fuck that he is _not_ a chef. Doesn't he have fucking cereal or some shit like that? Everyone has cereal.

Everyone with the exception of Noise Marie, apparently.

Sighing exasperatedly, Allen gets up from his chair, the legs scraping against the floor. "I don't know how you survived this long."

"Shut the fuck up," Kanda snaps back, rummaging through his older brother's fridge. Meanwhile, Allen takes to opening the first cabinet and pulling down a box, then bending down low to grab a pan.

"Get the butter, Genius."

"I will fuck your shit up."

Allen rolls his eyes, simply holds out his hand for the butter. Kanda grumbles as he shoves the container in the white-haired boy's outstretched arm. "Such language."

Kanda sneers and nearly finds himself sticking out his tongue. He has to remind himself that he's nearly twenty-two and no longer a rebellious teenager.

Allen sticks the pan on the small stove and begins heating it up. "Do you know where a mixing bowl might be?"

"No."

"Do you think you could look for one?"

"No."

"Jesus, Lord in Heaven, give me strength."

"Since when do you have a hard-on for religion?"

Allen gives him a look that very nearly spells offense. "I'm going to laugh when I watch you burn in hell from my nice, cozy place in the clouds."

Kanda almost laughs himself. "I've taken a few meteorology classes, and I hate to burst your precious little bubble, but there's no one but birds up there." Dutifully ignoring Kanda, the bitchy truant begins rummaging through drawers and cabinets until he finds a two-quart bowl. He pours about half a box of pancake mix into it, then drowns it in water. "You didn't want to be fuckin' late, so you're making pancakes. How the fuck do you plan on graduating with those kind of logic skills?"

"I'm going to graduate with _honors_, thank you very much," Allen snaps back. "Because unlike someone, I know how to balance my schedule, and I can practice music and still maintain good grades. Besides, you were the one that said I was already going to be late, _Louise_."

"But you're still missing class, _Thelma_."

"It's just Literature – I think I'll be okay," he snaps, flipping his bangs from his eyes and mixing the contents of the large yellow bowl. "We're only going over _1984_, and I've read that book at least twice."

Kanda hated that book in high school.

He still hates that book.

"Whatever," Kanda crosses his arms and leans against the wall.

There are only a few moments of silence before Beansprout speaks up again, still mixing his twelve pounds of pancake mix. "So…what are you going to do today?"

He hadn't really thought about it. "I don't know." Since all of his classes have been online, there's been no need to deal with attendance, so they can't drop him for his good month and a half of not doing shit related to school. And honestly, maybe he should at least try to finish out the semester. He can deal with everything else when May comes – that'll still give him months until the NOAH come back for Allen. "Email my fucking teachers and get a month a half worth of fifteen hours of classes done." Besides, he's pretty much got how they've set up their transportation system and where their safe houses are. He's just got to find the bastards themselves. Still, it's going to damn near kill him to be working on something trivial, like the morphology of angiosperms, when there are murderers out there right under his fingertips.

Allen nods, spreading a disgusting amount of butter around the heated pan. "That sounds smart." He begins pouring the mixture, creating small circles and ovals. "What about…your job?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. Why is everything so fucked up? Couldn't things have just stayed normal? "I don't know. I'll deal with the labs when I can."

He'd had plans, once – what he was going to do with his degree and when he was going to do it. He was going to stay at the university, work there as he worked towards a Master's degree. He doesn't admit it a lot, and he feels stupid for it most of the time, but he honestly enjoys biology. It just – it's not so important as the NOAH. How could he ever put a discipline of science over…pretty much what he was brought up for?

He doesn't think specifically about his time in Japan often, but all the things he learned, all the hate he garnered, it will always be with him. He supposes that was their end goal, really. They didn't want him to think about his training, about those things he went through – it was set up so all the rage and need for vengeance felt like his own. And he knew that maybe it was something specifically instilled in him, but after what happened to Tiedoll and Daisya, it honestly didn't matter anymore.

Tiedoll taught him how to survive as a human being, but his death kind of ruined things for him. Even though Kanda often found himself keeping on because of that man even after he was gone, the day he was told it was the NOAH was the day he forgot. Every single cell in his body erased the things he had been taught. And it became harder and harder and harder until it suddenly a stupid British boy showed up and it just wasn't anymore.

Then Daisya was murdered, and perhaps his mind was just too fucking exhausted to try. For years and years he'd been _making_ himself okay. He's not a little girl, he's stronger than letting his past get to him – but everyone has a limit, he supposes. Even him.

"Kanda?"

He shakes his head, startled out of his thoughts.

"Do you want something to eat?" Allen smiles at him softly, as if he can read Kanda's thoughts and he's treading shallow water. "I can probably find it in me to share."

Kanda inhales, and he knows his expression isn't as passive as he'd like. "Whatever." He's honestly not hungry. Not even a little bit. But he'll fucking make himself sick with food if he doesn't have to go through inanition again. Even more than that, ending up in a hospital again would probably make him go crazy.

Allen nods, still smiling, and Kanda wonders if he's actively trying to look so fucking _pretty_. It astounds him that any eighteen year old male could look so feminine sometimes. When his lips turn up and his eyes crinkle and his hair brushes his cheeks, he looks beyond beautiful. But Kanda would never admit that out loud.

Ever.

The boy flips a pancake onto a plate, then one more, and sets it to the side before flipping the other two he'd been able to fit onto another. "Take one," he says, motioning to a plate with his back to Kanda as he pours more mix into the pan. He was about to wonder why the boy was only eating two, but it was just because he couldn't squeeze more mix into the pan.

Kanda grabs the plate from the counter and finds a fork before sitting in a chair and glancing down at his food. It doesn't look awful, but he's still not looking forward to eating. Eating when he's not hungry only serves to make him feel bloated and gross.

Nonetheless, he tears it with his fork and grimaces before putting it in his mouth. It doesn't taste bad at all – they're not even as dry as he thought they'd be. "I cook for Cross a lot." Allen starts. "Well, uh, I guess cook_ed_."

"You still haven't seen him?" Kanda asks, leaning back a bit in his chair and taking another bite of food.

Allen shakes his head, almost sadly. "I…have no idea where he is. I mean…it's really…odd. I get money in my account automatically at the beginning of the month, but… " And that sounds just as strange as anything else.

"Cross is a fucking asshole, but he's making sure to send you money?"

"I don't know!" He says, exasperated. "Like I said, it's odd. I mean, I don't even know how he'd get into my account, since I have my own. But…I still always have money." He turns to look at Kanda, spatula in his right hand and his left hand on his hip. "And another thing. For the second time the other day I got this weird letter in the mail with some kind of spiky cross on it instead of a return address."

Kanda raises his eyebrow for just a moment. Then his expression falls. "Spiky cross?"

"Yeah," Allen nods. "Okay, I'm not an artist, but…" He grabs a paper towel from the counter and glances around for a writing utensil. He finds one on the coffee table a few feet away. He places it on the table next to Kanda and leans over, drawing a rather awful, multi-spiked cross. Even though it's probably the worst fucking drawing he's ever seen, he still recognizes it.

Allen perks up, going back to his pan before his pancakes burn and Kanda picks up the paper towel, looking at the insignia the Beansprout drew. He could never forget it, blazing bright gold against Tiedoll's chest as he wrapped his arms around Kanda's nine year old self. It's the last thing he can remember from Japan.

He still doesn't know what it means, but it definitely feels important. Tiedoll wore this crest – and if Allen is getting letters with the same cross, it has to mean something big. He feels slight agitation at Allen for not telling him, but quells it easily. There's no way the kid could have realized.

Allen sits down across from him, six pancakes stacked high on his plate. Kanda grimaces, his mind being momentarily distracted from the familiar design. "One day your metabolism will catch up with you."

"And I will be happily obese, because I will never give up food." Allen says smiling, shoving half a pancake in his mouth at once. "It's the light of my life."

"You're so fucking weird."

Allen shrugs and glances at his phone. He frowns as he swallows. "I am going to be so damn late."

"Whose fault is that?"

"Um, probably _yours_."

"What? How the fuck is it my fault?" Kanda lets out an indignant breath, almost like huffing in defiance or scoffing in disgust.

"You're very comfortable in the mornings," Allen says simply, like that's a good fucking reason or something. "Sorry, okay? It was the first time I'd woken up with you in months, and it was _nice_."

"That still doesn't make it my fault."

"Kind of does," he throws back, faking a pout. He takes another abnormally large bite of food and chews it far too quickly. He's going to choke himself one day. "Alright," he says finally, taking one more bite and finishing up his plate. He stands and tosses the dish into the sink, it clatters loudly, and Kanda absentmindedly wonders how long ago they woke Marie up. Bastard has perfect hearing, so probably sometime around when they walked into the kitchen. "I've _got_ to get going. At least I have the Supra." He grabs his keys from where he'd left them on the coffee table and gives Kanda one last look. "I'll, uh, see you later then?"

Kanda raises an eyebrow at him. "Sure."

"Right," he nods, smiling. He waits just a second longer before running back to Kanda's place at the table and placing a small kiss on his lips. He leans back awkwardly. "Good luck with your school work."

Kanda crosses his arms and smirks. "Like I need it." The Beansprout shakes his head, still looking awkward, and makes his way back to the door. Kanda hears him laughing as he walks out the door and, presumably, towards the car.

He stands up, setting his plate and the pan in the sink, not looking forward to all the work he's going to be doing today. At least once it's done, it's done.

* * *

><p>He growls, running his hand through his hair in annoyance and leaning back on the couch. Marie's laptop is hot against his skin, a sign that he's been sitting with it on his lap for far too long; he would honestly rather be doing anything else. Even looking at the NOAH's maps and profiles and documents and newspapers for hours on end is better than this.<p>

"Having trouble?" Marie asks from his spot on the piano bench. He presses down on a key and the sound reverberates around the uptown apartment.

Kanda scoffs. "This is just so fuckin' stupid."

"It wouldn't be so difficult if you'd kept up with it."

"Don't start that shit. Besides, you play _music_. You don't even know what difficult is."

Marie turns a bit and gives him an incredulous expression. Even if the man can't see him, his milky blue eyes are right on target. "Alright. You come play Tchaikovsky's First Concerto and I'll work on your homework." Kanda understands what he's saying, but it doesn't make him any less agitated. "By the way," he continues, turning back around and gliding his fingers over the keys, playing an improved melody. "Chaoji is coming over later."

"Great."

"Don't sound too enthused."

He honestly can't say he hates Chaoji, because he really doesn't, but he can get really annoying at times. And he really does have a lot of work to do that isn't going to happen if Chaoji is breathing down his neck.

A thought strikes him suddenly and he looks up from the laptop completely, shutting the top and setting it to the side. "Do you remember what Tiedoll was wearing when we met him in Japan?"

Marie abruptly stops playing. He's silent for a few beats, and then, "The uniform, right?"

"Yeah," he nods, absentmindedly. "Did he ever tell you what the spiked cross on it meant?"

"I didn't realize there _was_ a cross on it," his older brother shakes his head. "All he ever said was that he worked for a military."

He sighs harshly and crosses his legs. "Well, the Beansprout got a letter in the mail with the same symbol on it."

"What?" Marie turns around again. "What did the letter say?"

"He didn't tell me." He crosses his arms, too. He leans his head back and stares at the ceiling. "But it definitely makes everything seem connected. If the same military is contacting him…"

Marie doesn't respond for a while. "I don't know."

Kanda releases a sound of disgust and wipes hair from his eyes. "If that fucking man was still around, maybe he'd actually be fuckin' useful for once."

"Don't say that," Marie frowns. "Dad was a good man. He took you in, didn't he?"

Kanda licks his dry lips and moves to stand, moving to the kitchen to make himself something to drink. He honestly wants something a little stronger than water, but as he eyes where Marie keeps the alcohol, he decides against. He doesn't need to be reliant on that shit.

"Even though Dad never really told us what he did," Marie says from the other room. "It was probably because he loved us. With everything that's been going on, I don't think the appearance of that symbol can mean anything good."

Kanda kind of finds himself agreeing. Still…

"If Beansprout is getting fucking postage from these people, I want to know who they are," he snaps, downing a glass of water. "Considering how much the NOAH love him, that this group is trying to establish contact with them-"

His phone rings suddenly and he sighs and rolls his eyes as he goes to see who it is. He picks it up and furrows his eyebrows at the unknown number, but answers anyway. If this is another fucking NOAH -

"_Faggot _Numero Dos_, where is my idiot godchild_?"

He nearly drops the phone. "What the fuck are you calling and asking _me_ for, Asshole?"

"_Because you two're fucking. Where is he_?"

Kanda purses his lips. "Why should I tell you?"

"_If you don't I'll litter you with bullets. And that would just _ruin_ your feminine figure."_

"Fuck you," he snaps back. Cross and he never did get along. "I'm not going to say a goddamn word until – wait, again, why the fuck are you calling me about this?"

He hears a deep, sarcastic sigh from the other line and he nearly breaks his cell phone. "_Because he's not at the house_."

"That's probably because it's a Thursday afternoon, Dipshit." He returns, leaning against a wall. "There's this little thing called school that happens during the week. Besides, why do you suddenly care where he is? You've been out of state for fucking forever now, apparently."

"_I don't need to explain myself to a bitch like you. So he's at that fucking school then….where's my goddamn car?"_

Kanda nearly laughs. "Your _idiot godch_-" He pauses, something catching up with him. "How did you know Beansprout and I were-"

"_Big Brother is always watching_," the man grumbles offhandedly, as if he's preoccupied with something else.

Ugh, he _fucking_ _hates_ that book!

"That's fucking creepy," is all he can really muster in return. "If you're always watching, then why the fuck are you calling me to ask where he is?"

"_I didn't say that I was Big Brother_," Cross snaps. _"Alright, Princess? And if Faggot _Numero Uno_ shows up with another letter, same as before, you better fuckin' tell me_."

"What, you want me to fucking update you on him? Why don't you just call him yourself? And what the fuck's with that letter?"

"_Too many goddamn questions. It was enough work just realizing they sent one – as I wasn't told jack shit. And if they're sending shit, it hmeans they know exactly where he lives. So if I call you, and I ask you why he's not at the fucking house, you better be fucking ready to tell me where he is. If you aren't, and you've let him get kidnapped again like the girl he is, I will kill you."_

Kanda finds that he doesn't sound like he's joking. "What does that fucking letter mean?" He asks again. "I _know_ that goddamn symbol."

Cross doesn't respond at first, and Kanda wonders if he hung up. As he's ready to pelt the phone at the wall, he hears an inhale – like someone taking a drag from a cigarette. "_All I'm going to tell you is that they're much closer than you think they are, in people that you never realized could be involved. Now that's it, Princess. Shut your goddamn mouth and, for once, do something that'll help someone you care about rather than just yourself. I don't give half a shit if you thought your research would help my idiot, faggoty godchild; it _didn't_. So keep that the fuck in mind when you try to protect someone."_

Kanda hears a dial tone before he can reply; he grits his teeth so hard it makes his head ache and lets out a long scoff. His entire body quakes with agitation, but he does do his best to try and calm himself a bit. Maybe he should take up meditation as a fucking hobby with how stressed out he's been.

"What was that about?" Marie asks, softly.

"It…was Beansprouts asshole of a fucking godfather." And what timing. Almost like he knew exactly what they were talking about.

He feels a shiver run down his spine, but not out of fear. If his privacy is being invaded…ugh, it makes him so uncomfortable. A knock sounds on the door next to him and he tears it open, still on edge from the phone call.

Chaoji only looks slightly taken aback. It's obvious he's used to Kanda's disposition.

"Hey," he starts. "I can come in?"

"Of course," Marie says and Kanda scoffs and steps to the side, walking back to the couch and sitting next to his laptop. It's going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>"So you're together with him again?" Chaoji asks hours later, eyes trained on the television. Why Marie even has a television eludes Kanda, but he doesn't think on it too much.<p>

"I guess."

"Why? After everything that happened, why?"

"It's not like any of it was his fault."

"But it _was_ though! If he wasn't so close to –"

"Chaoji," Marie starts, softly, and the Chinese man is lucky Marie was the one to stop him from going on, because Kanda's had about enough. He really doesn't need to be focused on those kinds of things.

"Sorry," he mutters. "I just…"

Kanda waves him off, ready to change the topic. "Whatever." It's not like Chaoji can help it, and Kanda really doesn't have much of a right to think of him as an asshole after what he himself did.

There's a slight silence, then the brown-haired man tries to salvage the conversation. "So, you're feeling okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You've been eating?"

"I'm _fine_."

"Alright, I get it," he sighs. "You never change, do you? Just trying to help."

"Jesus fucking Christ, you people's definition of help is pretty damn skewed. Talking my ear off isn't going to help anybody."

"Excuse us for being worried about you."

"You're excused," he snaps sarcastically. "I don't know if you realize, but I'm not a little kid anymore. I don't need to be _sheltered_."

"Maybe we wouldn't treat you like a kid if you didn't act like one," Chaoji snaps back. "What kind of adult treats their body like that?"

"The busy kind."

"More like the self-destructive, moody teenager kind."

"Guys," Marie says. "There's no need to bicker."

"What else did you expect, letting him come over," Kanda sneers, crossing his arms and looking away.

"Really?" Chaoji starts in disbelief, but before he can finish speaking the soft, jazzy sound of a piano drifts through their conversation. It's a song Kanda recognizes, but can't place. One of the many hundreds of songs he heard Marie play when they all used to live in the house on New York together. His agitation almost unwillingly bleeds out of him; he doesn't like to admit just how much that music affects him.

He realizes _why_ it does when he places the artist as Frank Sinatra. It's on Tiedoll's favorite record.

"Dad loved this song," Chaoji whispers after a moment.

That man really did love his jazz and blues music. Probably why he moved to a city like New Orleans. He would have been hard pressed to find another city with a jazzier soul. The artsy style of the area always appealed to him; they ended up places like City Park and the French Quarter often.

His phone rings again and he almost seriously considers getting it turned off. He glances at the caller ID and, with a sigh, answers the call. "What?"

"_Um, so I just got out of school and I have no lessons today and I was just…um…"_ Allen fidgets on the other side of the phone.

"Spit it out, Beansprout."

"_Hey!"_ he cries, indignant. "_It's _Allen_. I know you know my name_."

"Of course I do. I would have to be an idiot otherwise. What do you want?"

"…_Can I come over?"_

"…"

"_I mean, it's just – it's going to be _lonely_ at my house. And anyway, um, I wanted to play a song with Marie. We talked for a while the other night and I really want to play a duet with him. And okay, maybe I kind of want to see you a little bit, but I mostly want to play the piano."_

"Wow, don't you make me feel _special_," Kanda sighs, rolling his eyes. He can't stop the smirk on his lips, though.

"_Nothing but the best for you_," Allen replies happily. "_So?"_

"I don't really give a shit."

"_Alright. Cool. Good deal. Yeah, I'm here, so I'll see you in like twenty seconds after I climb these stairs_."

"Are you fucking_ kidding me_?" But his response is nothing but a dial tone. Like godfather like fucking godson.

"Who was that?" Chaoji asks.

"You better keep your fucking mouth shut," Kanda warns. He really didn't think that stupid Beansprout was going to show up _now_. He thought he might have more time. Ugh, fucking _idiot_.

"What are you talking about?"

There's a knock on the door and Marie and Chaoji both give him the most confused looks they can muster. Sighing, he stands up to go open it and is immediately greeted by having mismatched arms encircle his neck and pull him into an embrace. "Hey!"

Kanda grunts in return, awkwardly patting his back. He really does not like showing affection in front of his brothers. Not that he's very good at showing affection in general, but whatever. "What the fuck is your problem?" he asks, but it's not really harsh. "What kind of person waits until they get outside a building to ask if they can visit?"

"One that knows you're going to say yes. Oh, hi Marie," he releases Kanda and starts towards the blind man when he stops and catches sight of Chaoji. "Oh…hey…" The awkwardness sets in. "I…didn't realize you were here."

"Yeah, I didn't know you were coming either," Chaoji returns, but upon catching Kanda's glare he sighs and continues with, "How are you?"

Allen looks taken aback. "Um…good, I suppose. You?"

"I'm alright."

"Now that it's established that we're all fine and fucking dandy…" Kanda rolls his eyes. They don't have to be so stupid about it.

Allen throws him a glare, then sticks out his tongue. "You are such an asshole." Kanda shrugs and walks back to his spot on the couch, next to his laptop. "Oh, did you get some work done today?" The white-haired boy asks, expression changing drastically within just a few seconds. He moves to sit on the arm of the couch, peering over Kanda's body to see his laptop.

"…"

"Did you accomplish _anything_?"

"…"

"Even _one_ assignment?"

"Shut the fuck up, okay? I had to go back and reread like three chapters per class. That's fifteen chapters, in case you forgot how to multiply. How am I supposed to do the work if I don't know the information?"

"Google it."

"That's really honorable of you," Kanda says, rolling his eyes. "How the fuck are you going to learn anything if you Google all the answers?"

"I Google the question, get the answer, learn the answer, apply it to other problems similar. And isn't Biology just _memorization_? It can't be too complicated."

"Isn't piano just _memorization_?" Kanda mocks.

"Not exactly."

"So, Allen, you play the piano as well," Chaoji speaks up, and Kanda has to give it to the guy for _trying_. "I – uh – I think I knew that already, but it's been a while."

"Oh, yeah." The white-haired boy scratches the back of his head. "I didn't really get super into playing until after Kanda and I weren't really together anymore, anyway. I was learning beforehand, but it got…intense when I found myself with extra free time. I took the things Marie had taught me and built on them."

"I haven't even gotten to hear you play, really," Marie says, almost sounding sad. Kanda supposes it has something to do with the fact that at some point he almost considered Allen his student. But after everything that happened, it didn't go too far.

"Well, that's one of the reasons why I'm over here," he smiles, getting up and walking towards the mini-grand. "Do you know any duets, Marie?"

The man smiles at him, and Kanda thinks it's probably the first time he's seen that expression on his brother since Daisya died.

* * *

><p>He hears them whispering to each from his seat on the couch and he grumbles, crossing his arms. He doesn't like not knowing what they're saying; if there's a need for them to whisper, it's probably because they wanna fuck with him.<p>

"No, yeah I can do that. Jennifer's part, right?"

Marie nods. "You take the melody."

"Got it."

Marie starts, somewhere around the middle of the keyboard, and it takes maybe half a second for Kanda to realize what they're playing.

Allen comes in and he cranes his neck a bit, looking back at Kanda and beaming like an idiot as his fingers move over the keys with expert preciseness. He sings along lightly as they play. "Cause I've had the time of my life," his surprisingly good tenor drifts through the room. Kanda had no idea he knew how to sing. "And I owe it all to you!"

Marie sings along as well, but Kanda's less surprised by his voice. His childhood was filled with it.

The tempo picks up and Allen laughs as his fingers dance among the keys. Chaoji stands from his seat next to Kanda and wanders towards the piano, eyes focused on their handiwork. He looks, for lack of a better term, impressed.

By the time they've finished the song, all occupants of the apartment with the exception of Kanda are singing along in completely perfect time. He knew Dirty Dancing was one of the Beansprout's favorite movies - he'd mentioned it before - but that he can play it off the top of his head like he did...well Kanda's a tad impressed as well. And to work it into a duet so easily.

He stands, walking towards the piano as well, and catches Allen's eye for just the slightest second. Something in his smile makes Kanda very nearly regret everything he'd done to the boy previously. Nearly; he's not one to think about sappy shit like that.

The object of his thought's stomach growls and Kanda rolls his eyes. Allen laughs nervously and holds his stomach. "I always get hungry after I play. Probably the nerves."

"No fuckin' way. You are not allowed to blame your hunger on _nerves_. You're always fucking eating." He snaps back, crossing his arms. The white-haired boy just kind of smiles at him, a bit embarrassed.

"We can make an early dinner," Marie starts. "Chaoji, would you like to eat with us?"

"Yeah," he nods. "Sure."

Allen gets up from the piano bench then, and moves towards the kitchen. "I'll cook it," he smiles. "Do you have pasta?"

"I don't really have a lot of stuff like that. Anything in those cabinets is stuff other people bring over, so you can look, but…"

Other people? Kanda wonders idly. What kind of _other people_? Chaoji gives Marie a suspicious glance, too, but the Beansprout apparently doesn't care, because he's already opening and closing every cabinet and drawer he can find.

"No, no, make yourself at home," Kanda rolls his eyes.

"I did tell him he could look," Marie chastises.

"Aha!" Allen exclaims – it's obvious he was completely ignoring them. "You have a bag of rice. We can use that." He grabs the bag and throws it on top of the corner. "And – and oh my look at this you have beans. It won't taste as good because it's not slow cooked, but how does red beans and rice, sound?"

Honestly, Kanda doesn't _like_ red beans and rice, but he'd rather not speak up. It's not like he's that hungry anyway, so he'll just pick until his brothers and Allen are satisfied.

"Seasonings, seasonings – oh, what kind of Louisiana kitchen would this even be without Tony Chachere's?"

_Mine_, Kanda nearly says, but he holds back from that, too. Allen puts Tony's in it and he's definitely not finishing off a whole plate. This really gets Kanda curious though, about what kind of people spend enough time in Marie's apartment to be leaving ingredients around. As if people _cook_ for him. He narrows his eyes at his older brother.

Allen gathers the ingredients, grabbing a pot and setting it on the stove.

How would he eat otherwise, though? Unless someone was cooking for him. Would he just go out for every meal? Before Tiedoll died, Marie lived with him (They all did, really).

Living alone as a blind man cannot be easy.

He would almost feel bad, considering they've been brothers for a good almost twelve years and he still doesn't spare the man a second thought when they aren't together. Then again, he doesn't spare many people a second thought when he's not around them. He's not really that kind of person.

When the food is done, they all take seats around the coffee table, as Marie's little table in the kitchen is way too small for four people. Even though he doesn't like red beans and rice or Tony's, he finds he doesn't really mind the meal, and finishes a good half of his bowl before shoving it at Allen. The boy doesn't even spare him a glance, simply takes the dish and shovels the remaining food in his mouth.

One day he's not going to be repulsed by that. One day he'll have to get used to it, right?

By the time Chaoji leaves, it's getting dark. Marie and Allen play another song, and then Marie excuses himself to his room to get ready for work. Years later and he's still playing for late night customers at fancy restaurants and bars. He's told Kanda he doesn't want anything more than that, though, so he never really comments. It's not his place to decide what his brother does.

"You can go ahead and spend the night again if you like," Marie says to Allen as he loosens his tie. "Just don't be so loud in the mornings."

The Beansprout blushes a bit. "Oh, uh, sorry. I totally wasn't even thinking."

"It's alright," his older brother nods. "I should be back around two, just a heads up." His cloudy, sightless eyes look straight at Kanda. "Don't kill each other. Play nice," he says with a smirk.

"What the fuck are you-?"

Marie laughs then and turns, walking out of the door with practiced ease. As soon as the lock clicks, he feels the Beansprout's eyes on him and he turns, catching his gaze. The white-haired boy stretches, and Kanda eyes up the small patch of white skin that shows when his shirt lifts. "Well," he yawns after a moment, and it's quite obviously fake. "Ready for bed?"

"It's not even nine, fuck that."

"No, _darling_." Allen smirks, and he winks. How fucking cheesy can one human being get? "_Ready for bed_?"

It doesn't take another moment for Kanda to catch on, and he doesn't need to be asked twice.

* * *

><p><strong>The great thing about Allen is that no one else gets how important sex actually is to him. Especially from when they were talking about priorities and him naming food as his number one. It isn't that he enjoys sex any less than anyone else - it's just that he really, really loves to eat. <strong>

**This chapter introduces the Black Order, finally - I've been trying to get them in for a while now, but it just hasn't really been happening. It's a pretty secretive ordeal, very behind-the-scenes, essentially for the sake of the kids (the 'kids' being Allen and Kanda, mostly - Lavi's kind of affected by it too) but more will be revealed. Actually, from here on, there's going to have a lot of backstory being explained, especially in regards to Kanda's past. Alma will be explained much later on, and I have a pretty sizeable backstory for Allen that I'm going to fit in as well. I didn't have him think about his past too much in RB, which I do regret slightly, but when I was originally writing it it wasn't even supposed to have a sequel, so I didn't deem it important. **

**Anyway, I'm glad I actually got this chapter out and done on time. It's supposed to be a bit of a break from all the dark and the huge shitstorm that is Kanda's life, so I hope I accomplished that slightly. I did kind of want it to transition into the next chapter as well, which is going to shed some light on Tiedoll. I'm pretty upset with myself for killing him off before the story even started, because he's a great character. **

**Well, this has been a long A/N - toodaloo! Hope you enjoyed, and hopefully I will be back next week with chapter ten. Stay golden. **


	11. Chapter Ten

**Dream Sequence Start!**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>

He feels warm. Warm like being enveloped in a thick blanket after freezing in the winter snow. He blinks his eyes open, wearily, much too tired to even try to seem alert, and the first thing he sees is a golden spiked cross against a sea of black. His head is cradled against the shoulder of a man, and his legs dangle as he's held princess style, but with the onslaught of pain (it creeps up on him like a silent torture, slow, but building with time) he finds himself too distracted to care. Voices carry across his awareness, but he can't place who they belong to, even though one sounds very familiar. The man holding him speaks and he vaguely makes out something like:

"Don't worry, he'll be taken care of. Rehabilitation will be difficult, but I'll do anything in my power to help him."

Rehabilitation? For his wounds, he supposes – if they are talking about him, anyway. The fight with Alma…Alma…

How could this happen? He doesn't really fancy himself the kind of boy that has friends, but Alma is…different. They're the same – they know the same pain, the same loneliness. Alma is nearly an extension of himself; at some points while they were training he watched him move and wondered if they had once been a singular being that separated into two. Even when he would glance in a mirror and dark, slanted cobalt eyes stared back at him, he could see Alma there.

It was a camaraderie brought by the hurt they shared. Like soldiers on the battlefield, he was once told.

The man holding him shifts slightly and he groans as his left arm is jostled. It feels broken. He knows what broken bones feel like, has had hundreds of them healed through 'miracle' medicines, and the sharp pain speaks a thousand words more than an X-Ray ever could.

"Sorry, Yu," the man says softly.

"Don't call me that," he grumbles back. The only person who's allowed to call him that is Alma.

The man chuckles at that, warmly, and Kanda feels himself slipping into slumber again. He's tired. So tired. And everything hurts. Everything.

But before he can fall asleep he's on an airplane. His eyes are locked on the small window and he watches the white clouds go by. He hears talking going on next to him and turns his head, catches sight of a tall, old man with messy hair and square glass and a teenager he'd seen around before. His eyes are wrapped with cloth but his lips are turned up in a small smile. It was probably an accident in training that did that to him – it's how Alma got the scar across his nose.

Thinking about Alma hurts, for some reason. He's never really experienced an emotion like this before – some combination of anger and sadness. Betrayal? Is that the word for it?

The old man notices his eyes on them and turns his attention to Kanda. "Oh, you're awake."

Obviously.

"How are you feeling?"

He doesn't answer, partially because he doesn't know and partially because it would take far too much energy to open his mouth. It'd be a waste to talk to his foolish man. Doing anything but existing would just be…not worth it.

Maybe even existing isn't really worth it.

"Yu?" He shoots the man a glare, and he takes the hint, laughing. "Am I not allowed to call you that?" Kanda doesn't even shake his head. He can't even really do that. He just stares stupidly. "Are you thirsty or hungry? You've been out for a while."

Oh this man's voice is getting annoying. He almost wants to talk if only to tell him to shut up.

The boy with the wrapped eyes speaks up. "He doesn't seem to want to talk."

What gave it away, blind man?

"No, I suppose not. He's been through a lot recently. Well, not just recently. He's been going through a lot for a while. Poor thing. I'll just order him some water. Maybe that'll help him want to talk."

It won't, but he doesn't think he'll refuse the drink. His throat does feel a tad…dry.

Closing his eyes, he leans back against the seat, when he opens them again, he's in his bedroom in New Orleans.

He's completely alone, his knees pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around them; he rests his head on the wall and finds this position on his bed to be almost comfortable. The lights are dim, and if it wasn't for his racing mind he could probably fall asleep.

He really didn't even think about this – was never really given time to – but all of a sudden up and moving from one country to another is terrifying. America isn't fundamentally different from Japan, but it's just different enough to make him feel nervous. He speaks their language, as it's what the scientists and trainers spoke back in Japan, and at least there's that. A language barrier would probably make things even worse.

He presses his hand to the bed sheets and runs it across his fingers, feeling the texture. This bed is much nicer than the ones he and Alma had.

He draws up closer to himself when the door opens slightly. The man who took him from Japan with little to no explanation, Tiedoll, pokes his head through with a soft smile. "Yu, my boy? Are you alright in here alone?"

He frowns. "Don't call me that."

"Well, it's your name, Son. What else am I supposed to call you?"

"Not 'son', either…" He rests his cheek on his knee and stares at the wall. He's counted 349 little marks consisting of cracks and bumps and little stains since he arrived. The house is obviously old.

The man sighs a bit and invites himself in, closing the door behind him and making his way towards the bed. Kanda eyes him and scoots away, as far into the corner as he can. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I know you must be hurting right now, but it'll do you some good to come out of your shell. You'll never get better if you don't."

"What are you talking about, Old Man?" Kanda asks lowly, and he knows his voice is void of emotion. He doesn't think he can really force anything like that just yet.

Tiedoll smiles at him a little, and it almost looks sad. "I suppose the explanation on the plane wasn't enough." There was an explanation on the plane? He was probably passed out – or just ignoring him. "But you're going to be staying with me from now on. I adopted you. You're out of that god awful place for good, and now you can finally begin to heal." A warm hand rests on his head and he does his best not to rip it off and throw it across the room. He doesn't like being touched. "Now, why don't you come downstairs and get some dinner? You must be hungry – you've been sitting in this room all day. Come say hi to your family."

Family? He nearly wants to laugh at that. The concept of family is more foreign than the etouffee the old man made for dinner last night.

Nonetheless, he edges himself off the bed. He knows that there's no way Tiedoll would leave him alone otherwise and he needs to start pushing Japan from his mind anyway. Starting right now, he's going to forget everything that happened. Going to shove it down so deep, it would take god himself to pull it back up.

He goes to walk outside his bedroom door, and finds himself entering a classroom suddenly. But this doesn't seem strange. He's not taken aback by this at all.

The teacher at the front of the class desperately tries and fails to introduce him to his classmates. He's not interested in any of them. He's not even sure of why he's here. Education? Why does that matter when he's who he is? When he's been trained the way he has? It's not like there's a hope for him to grow up and live a normal life _anyway_ – he'll be lucky to survive past twenty, he once heard. And twenty, while it feels like a long ways away, isn't really. It's the amount of time he's been alive, and that's flown by. The year or so he was in training seemed to last a month, maybe.

So he crosses his arms and sits in a chair towards the back and stares out the window rather than at his teacher. They're on the first floor – maybe he could just sneak out? But no such luck, because as he discreetly tries to open the window, he realizes it's screwed shut. He's stuck. Locked in. No escape.

He glares at a spot on his desk, next to his open vocabulary book, and wills away the panic. It's just school. It's not like anything here can hurt him, unless you count the stupidity that is French. Of course Tiedoll would send him to a school that has that shit.

Still, he's safe. He doesn't need to attack anyone or run away, that's what Tiedoll told him last night as they sat at dinner. He was obviously flighty – it wasn't hard for the man to pick up on it, and the words he said then Kanda repeats like a mantra in his head. Japan is seven thousand miles away, give or take a few. It's not like they can just take a little swim and drag him back.

Then again, that place has been known to do some improbable things in the past.

He leans his head back and stares at the ceiling. Dangling from it is a pencil, and he's sure with just the right amount of pressure, he could make his Bic do the same. He glances at the teacher at the front, who has her back turned to the class and is meticulously writing down the word 'scholar;' he takes the opportunity to take his pen, lean back over his seat, and pelt it at the ceiling.

He almost thinks it's going to fall back down and hit him in the face, but it sticks. He smirks and rights himself only to realize the teacher has since turned around and stares at him with a raised eyebrow. "This is Vocabulary, Mister Kanda, not Physics."

"Obviously," he retorts, gesturing at the board. He hates stupid, obvious statements. He's still smirking though, proud that the strength in his arm hasn't left him from the few weeks he's been without training. Thinking about it, he could probably take down the teacher, too, whatever her name is.

"Right," she nods. "Well, since it's so _obvious_, and obvious is a vocab word from two weeks ago, I'd like you to write twenty-five lines of said word. Due tomorrow morning at the beginning of class."

"Are you crazy? Hell no."

"_I'm sorry_?"

"Are you deaf, too?"

Everyone in the class is dead silent. He doesn't care, though. He hasn't cared about what people thought since he met Alma. No one speaks to him like that and doesn't get pummeled. Verbally or physically.

"No, I'm not," she says, tone clipped. "_Obviously_. Yu, go to the principal's office."

"I don't want to."

"_Now_."

Groaning, he rolls his eyes and stands from his desk. "Fine, at least I'll be out of this dumb class."

"Good_bye_, Yu." She intones, obviously ready for him to be gone already. "And I expect _fifty_ lines tomorrow morning."

"Screw you."

"_Seventy-five_. I'll be speaking with your father after school as well."

Kanda shrugs, slamming the door open and shut behind him as he storms out of the classroom and towards the principal's office. Halfway there, however, he stops. Why is he going there? What's the point? He's just going to get yelled at. And he hates getting yelled at. It just makes him want to beat something up.

So he turns on his heel and walks towards the school entrance, strolling through the halls without a care. When he finally gets to the large, double door, he pushes on them harshly and blinks as he steps into the bright noon sun. It's hot – so much hotter than Japan.

Wiping his bangs from his forehead, he sits on one of the steps and waits for the school day to end. Or someone to come after him, whichever's first.

But no less than half an hour later, the old piece of shit known as Tiedoll's car pulls up into an empty spot and the old man steps out of the car slowly. He puts a hand over his eyes to block the sun and smiles as he catches sight of Kanda.

He finds himself groaning and standing up, not sure of if he'd rather go back inside or deal with the man in front of him.

"Yu!"

"_Jesus_," he moans, closing his eyes and looking up at the sky. "Leave me alone!"

"The principal called and said you were supposed to be in his office but never arrived, I was so _worried_." The old man wraps his arms around Kanda and pulls him close. The nearness makes him want to vomit. Or punch a wall. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"I threw a pen at the ceiling."

"Oh cool, did it stick?"

"Hell yeah it did."

"Good job, my boy!" He squeezes tighter, and Kanda growls and pushes him away. "Oh wait, I mean. No! That's, uh, bad? I think. Right? Oh, I can't stay mad at you!"

"You're an idiot," Kanda rolls his eyes.

Tiedoll just smiles at him and lets go. "Well, let's go talk to the principal of yours, then we can, I don't know, go look at old vinyl records."

"What, instead of making me go back to class or sit in my room or some shit?"

The old man frowns a bit. "That sounds a bit too much like punishment."

Kanda scoffs, but follows him back into the school anyway. He might be stupid, but he might not be terrible.

The scene fades as they walk along silently.

"So Kanda," Daisya starts; years have skipped suddenly, that much is obvious. But again, this isn't odd. They're all seated at the large dining room table, and Tiedoll hums happily as he cuts into the steaks he'd made for them. "Did you hear the rumor?"

"No." Like he'd ever listen to gossip. Lavi prattles it off into his ear day and night, but he's grown really adept at ignoring the annoyance.

"Hmmm," his slightly older brother taps his lips with his fork. "Would you like to?"

"Not really. I don't give a shit." Tiedoll had long since stopped trying to get him to clean up his language. At fifteen, Kanda suspects he's one of the only kids around able to get away with as much as he does.

"But it's about you!"

"What?" Tiedoll perks up now. "Rumors going around about my son?"

"Shut the fuck _up_ with that, _please_." Kanda sighs, rolling his eyes. "And I still don't care." He honestly doesn't – he's pretty fucking quiet, so there's always conjecture about him floating around. That's what happens when you aren't open with people. They start to _assume_.

He still doesn't think it's worth it to actually talk to any of those idiots.

"Well I do," Tiedoll frowns. "If people are being mean to my baby boy –"

"_Jesus Christ_." He puts his head in his hands.

"I want to know." His foster father finishes, folding his hands.

Daisya leans back in his chair, crossing his arms and shooting a smirk at Kanda. He finds he doesn't like being on the other end of that mischievous expression. It's definitely exhausting having an asshat like him for a brother. "Well, _Dad_," Daisya starts sarcastically. "They're saying that Yu here ("_Don't call me that_!") was found under the bleachers with a _boy_." Tiedoll gasps a bit and Kanda gives him the most confused/annoyed look he can muster. "Okay, I think it was actually behind the Math building, but you get my drift."

Kanda scoffs. "Yeah, that's actually true."

"Wait, what?"

"_Yes_, that happened," he repeats, annoyed.

"Wait, Yu! You're in a relationship and you didn't even tell me!?" Tiedoll exclaims, nearly knocking his chair over in an attempt to get over to Kanda and embrace him. "You're in love and you _didn't even tell me_!?"

Marie's just sitting, watching them as they three go back and forth.

"What the fuck?! Get off, Old Man! I'm not in love with him, Jesus!"

"Wait, you're actually _gay_?" Daisya asks, incredulous.

He rolls his eyes, still pushing at Tiedoll. "Don't hurt yourself trying to grasp the concept…_Get off_." Finally, the man does, whining and slowly releasing him.

Daisya shakes his head. "That is not at all where I expected this conversation to go."

Kanda shrugs, just happy that he's able to breathe again now that his assailant's gone back to his seat. The stupid man is nearly to tears though. "You're supposed to tell your family these things, Yu!"

"Tch, firstly, I don't think it's any of your _business_," He snaps. "Secondly, that only works if I care enough to tell you. And I don't."

"But this is, like, a major development or something," Daisya laughs, picking at his food. "Marie, what do you think?"

"I think it's been obvious for years now."

Kanda doesn't know how to feel about that.

"Oh, come on – obvious? I mean, sure, he's got the pretty hair and the nails and the – _oh wait_." Daisya smiles at him.

"Shut the fuck up," Kanda returns. "At least I don't wear fucking _make_-_up_."

"Hey, it's a life-style choice."

"Right-o, _Faggot_," Kanda rolls his eyes.

"Like you have any right to call me that," Daisya laughs. "Faggot."

He shrugs and looks down at his food. He honestly doesn't even have an appetite anymore. "Boys," Tiedoll chides. "It does no good for family to fight. Family is forever."

"Until someone dies," Kanda says lowly, and the old man frowns at him. To this day…he still finds himself thinking about Alma, about the boy he'd beaten into submission. He was in a coma last he heard, but he hasn't been stable since the incident five years ago. He's good as dead.

"Now, now." The old man mutters, tears forming. "Let's not…" he sniffles. "Let's not talk about bad things like that."

"I can talk about whatever the fuck I want," Kanda snaps. "Everyone dies, Old Man. And that's the truth."

The scene changes.

"Can we keep him?" Tiedoll asks, holding the small Australian Shepherd to him.

"Why the fuck are you asking me?" Kanda snarls, crossings his arms and keeping his eyes trained on the television. It's rare for 'music television' to actually play music, so he's taking in VH1's 80's countdown while he can.

"Because you're the one we have to worry about. Lord knows you _look_ like you kick puppies in your spare time." Daisya offers, shrugging and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. Kanda has half a mind to rip those legs off and beat the atrocity with them.

Tiedoll scratches below the puppy's chin and kisses its forehead. Kanda has to roll his eyes and purse his lips to keep himself from saying something really rude. Then he remembers he doesn't care. "You're a bunch of fucking idiots. If you wanna have a fucking flea bag running around the house and shitting everywhere, that's your problem. Don't expect me to feed it and water it or whatever you do to animals."

"Dogs aren't your flowers, baby brother," Daisya snickers. Kanda has to try really, really hard not to disembowel him. The newly sharpened Mugen IS just a few rooms away. "You can't cover them in shit -ahem - fertilizer, and expect them to grow."

"I swear to whatever deity is out there that you will lose all of your limbs so fast you won't even -"

"Boys," Tiedoll frowns. "You're scaring Eden."

"That's what you're naming her?" Daisya asks, ignoring Kanda's threat with practiced ease and squinting his eyes at the red and white animal. "That's dumb."

"You're dumb," Kanda snaps, although he thinks the name is a bit stupid as well. It could be worse, though - he could have wanted to name her two-tone or some idiotic shit like that.

"And another clever comeback from the red corner!" Daisya laughs, throwing his arms in the air. Ugh, if Kanda could just maim him for one little second, he would be set for life. He may even smile or something crazy like that. The dog barks from her spot in Tiedoll's arms, and Kanda can't even really deny that it's kind of…not-annoying. "Hey, hey – maybe she can _smell_ the faggot."

"I don't know, did you remember to bathe this week?" Kanda replies flippantly, long used to the insult. After a while a word can start to lose its power.

"Oh that reminds me," Tiedoll nods. "How's it going with Christian?"

"Are you fucking serious? Nothing's _going_."

"Really?" He frowns. "I thought for sure my baby boy had finally found love. At least, you let him meet me, so that's what I assumed. You got fired for him and everything, too. I thought it was really romantic."

"I got fired because my manager is a bitch."

"And because you were taking it up the ass in the bathroom where you work," Daisya intones helpfully.

"Fuck you."

"Whoa, no thanks, man. I like, think of you as a brother or some shit like that. No homo."

Kanda rolls his eyes and the puppy barks again, wanting attention. "If that's going to happen constantly, I'm moving out."

"What, as the ripe old age of seventeen? Good luck getting emancipated from _that_ one." Daisya points at Tiedoll. "I once mentioned moving out and now he has like thirteen ulcers."

"Twenty-two," the Old Man smiles.

"You're breakin' my heart," Kanda scoffs, crossing his legs and training his eyes on the television again. Maybe one day he'll be able to be alone and do his things in peace. Won't have Tiedoll breathing down his neck about romances and Daisya smart ass comments. Heaven.

The scene changes.

This time, though, when it does, so does everything else. His entire mind seems to shift. What didn't seem strange before, now does. It seems surreal. Like he's dreaming but not. His presence of mind is different, and he vaguely remembers learning a little about it from psychology class. Lucid dreaming, right? When you're awake, but not. That's what it feels like, anyway.

It's obviously winter. There's no snow or anything, since it's southern Louisiana, but everything looks so gray. As he steps forward, he can feel the biting chill against his cheeks. He continues on, not sure of where he's going, but positive he's not going to like where he ends up; there's apprehension settling in his chest. It's reminiscent of warning signs for dangerous people. He looks up at a street sign, and see a very familiar street name. Doisere. The half-street where Tiedoll was murdered.

He picks up his gait, breath coming out in short puffs.

This is not a memory. It's something else. He knows he shouldn't keep going, but he can't stop. When he turns, he momentarily forgets. It's nothing in particular that he forgets, and yet everything he's ever remembered.

A dark red pool of blood sits in sharp contrast to the gray of the cold concrete. One of the things he's forgotten is how to move. Another is how to breathe. Another is how to blink. Subconscious things that take no real thought and he can't perform them.

He does notice that the man is alone with the exception of him, though – there's no NOAH, no police. It's just a long half-street and two dying people.

Finally, it all comes back to him and he inhales sharply. Large gulps of air burn his throat and his eyes water from the smell and the sight itself. He steps forward, and the image is so vivid he wonders if he wasn't actually there at some point.

_Just the crime scene photos_, he thinks to himself. _That's how I know_.

He kneels down next to his foster father and looks him over. There's a couple of wounds, but nothing outstanding. He knows the blood is all from internal injuries – half because of the police report and half because of the red stains coating the man's mouth and chin. It's like his skin itself has changed colors – become dried out and flaky. It's gruesome and it makes his stomach turn in a way it never has before. Even seeing those people Alma attacked so many years ago couldn't have prepared him for this. Even seeing the crime scene photos a million times couldn't have helped him.

"…Kanda?"

The man's eyes are open. They shouldn't be. He's supposed to be dead. But they are. Barely. He looks like he's just woken up.

Kanda can't seem to respond at first. "You're dead."

"Yes…I think I…am…" He whispers, hands moving slowly to grasp Kanda's own.

"Then why are you talking to me?"

"You're the one who's…dreaming…"

"But why are you _talking_ to me?"

"Because you don't…remember," Tiedoll says, weakly. His hands are cold, freezing cold. Where is that warmth the man once brought him? Where has it gone? His winter snow is here, so where is his blanket? "You have to try and remember."

"Remember _what_?" Kanda snaps, anxious. A dream. This is just a dream. A nightmare.

"Go back and remember, Son." His hands move to his chest – to the spiked cross there. He didn't even realize he was wearing that uniform at first. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe it changed while he wasn't watching. "Who else wore this?"

"_What the fuck are you talking about, Old Man_?" He can't seem to breathe right for some reason; it's caught in his throat, like something is impeding its movement in and out.

"Big Brother is always watching you," he whispers, a small smile on his face. "Watching you. Isn't that what he told you?"

Big Brother? The name instills hate and fear in him, but why? He doesn't like the book, that's for sure, but it's almost like…a conditioned response. A fucking book wouldn't do that. Ugh, fuck lucid dreaming. This shit is the worst.

Kanda doesn't even have it in him to ask what he's talking about again. The man is being cryptic, and he hates cryptic messages, but more than that, the words just won't seem to come. It feels like _he's_ dying, if death is anything like he's imagining. It's cold and dark and lonely.

"Go back," Tiedoll whispers once more, and then the man fades into dust. Kanda watches the tiny, brown particles float away with the wind, and suddenly a shadow is cast over him.

"Kanda Yu," Comes a rich, distinguished baritone. It almost sounds as if it's admonishing him. "What are you doing out here?"

He knows that voice. Can't place who it belongs to, but he knows it. Knows it from when Tiedoll got him, knows it from his many sessions strapped to the cold, metal tables, knows it from all those times he was stuck in ISO for his bad behavior.

"You aren't supposed to be here, and you know that." He turns, slowly, fear bleeding through him like liquid nitrogen. The man behind him is no man at all, really, he notices. A shadow, a blank slate of black in the shape of a tall, severe man. Can't seem to remember his face, or his clothing. Just that voice. That voice. Big Brother. Big Brother.

He is small again – no longer twenty-one and strong, but nine and impressionable; nine and more prone to acting tough rather than actually being tough. The world around him changes. A large, white room.

He is alone.

"Kanda Yu." His name rings through the air from what is probably a loud speaker. "Do you repent?"

Repent? For what? What _happened_?

The walls shake slightly, as if mirroring the apprehension he feels inside. The black shadow implants itself on the floor below him, and he nearly stumbles trying to get away from the two-dimensional mass.

No, he doesn't think about these times for a reason.

No...

_Big Brother_

No

_Is_

No

_Always_

No

_Watching._

Stop

_Big Brother is always watching you._

No

_Big Brother is always watching you._

Get out of my head

_Always watching._

Go away

_You are never alone._

Get away

_I can see you._

Leave

_Always_

Stop

_See you._

I didn't do anything wrong

_You did and when you do bad things_

Shut up

_I can see._

No

**_And you will be punished._**

* * *

><p>He wakes up with a start, breathing heavily, sweat coating his body. His chest aches like never before and the panic settled deep within his mind refuses to leave. Cut something or run away, he needs to do one or the other. "Hey," comes a gentle voice. "It's okay."<p>

Cool arms wrap around his waist, and the touch brings more comfort than he'd like to admit.

"What were you dreaming of?" Allen asks.

"I…it was nothing," he responds, taking in a deep breath, calming himself. He is stronger than this. No matter what happed then, he doesn't think about those times. Tiedoll's _rehabilitation_ worked, it did, he admits. It worked, and so he doesn't ever think about those times. Doesn't let them in.

"There's no need to blatantly lie," Beansprout frowns, bringing himself closer to Kanda. He rests his head on his shoulder. "You can talk to me about it. I have bad dreams, too, sometimes."

"_It was nothing_," Kanda repeats, harsher, able to finally find his footing. He can breathe again, at least, doesn't want to run and hide in the bathroom. Allen's arms tighten around him and the soft scent of his hair grounds Kanda to reality. He's not in Japan – he's in America. He's in a bed in uptown New Orleans in Louisiana in America. "Just…a dream…" he follows, deflating. Not on edge. Fine. He's fine. Everything's _fine_.

But that voice. Big Brother. Why can't he remember what it means? Is there even anything _to_ remember? Did he ever _know_? The human brain is an annoying and powerful thing; it could conjure up anything it wanted to. So that's why it's nothing. That's why it's just a dream. There's no need to look into it, to think about it too much.

Beansprout shifts against him, moving his head from his shoulder and instead moving to straddle him completely. Perhaps it's because Allen can hold him tighter this way – which he _is_ doing; holding him so tightly Kanda's short of breath again – or maybe it's just because he's horny. Either way, it takes his mind off of the dream.

"Kanda," he breathes. "I…it's heartbreaking, you know? The way you whisper his name in your sleep. It's got to be the saddest sound I've ever heard."

"Wha…?"

"No one's ever going to know how much you loved him, because you refuse to let it show. But you did – you did because he was your dad." Allen presses his nose to the side of Kanda's neck, nuzzling. Kanda's torn between complete annoyance and serenity; it's a simple action, but it's comforting. It's not really in his nature to let other people do this to him, so why should the Beansprout be any different? "And I get that. I loved my dad, no matter what happened. Even though he was obviously sick and sometimes he couldn't take care of me the right way, I still _loved_ him." Sick? He'd never heard anything about Beansprout Senior being sick. "It hurts that he's gone, and that's how I _know_ that you're hurting, too. Even if you won't admit it." Kanda relents slightly, moving his arms loosely around Allen, holding him back.

"Don't be stupid…" He mutters in return, laying his head on Allen's shoulder. "That man was an idiot."

"You're an idiot, but I love you."

He doesn't know how to respond to that. Has never known how to respond to it, really. But hearing it again after so long, in that way that only Beansprout can say it, he finds himself tightening his arms, squeezing the white-haired boy until he's sure that he can't breathe either.

"You're an idiot, too," he grumbles, and it's probably the closest he'll ever get to saying the same to Allen's face.

"Well, I guess we're all a bunch of idiots, then." Beansprout returns with mirth. "Maybe that's why this works."

"Works? If you call this working, if you think anything in our lives 'works,' you're more than an idiot. You're delusional."

"Delusional, huh?" His voice is so low Kanda can barely hear it and the boy's just about right up against his ear. "I guess even if I wasn't his biological son, I could still inherit more than a last name." He's curious, can't deny that, but he can't find the words to ask so he stays silent. Allen will tell him eventually, anyway. "I guess that all this talk of your dad has gotten me thinking about mine again." He laughs, but it's humorless and pathetic. "I'm no better on the avoidance front."

"Fuck off," Kanda rolls his eyes. "I don't avoid shit."

"Well, right now you're avoiding the truth, so…" He feels a sad smile on his neck. "Why do you have to act so tough?"

Because if you weren't tough, you broke. And if you broke, they threw you away. And there was no way he was going to let them win. Even as young as he was, he had his pride.

"_Jaku niku kyō shoku_," the words slip off his tongue before he's even realized what he's said. The language feels more natural than it should – he hasn't spoken Japanese in years. Since he wanted to bitch someone out without them knowing what he was saying. And it's been a while since he cared if he knew what he was saying or not.

"…Sorry?"

"The weak are meat; the strong eat," he clarifies roughly. He learned the saying from an old man he can't quite remember. He's not quite as unidentifiable as the large black shadow, though everything but his old golden skin is beyond reach. With the words comes the sharp smell of blossoms and the sharp sting of needles. Anything associated with that room is associated with that scent and that pain. But he can mostly block it out.

After a moment, Allen leans back and their embrace is loosened. He chuckles softly, and Kanda can just barely notice the glint of tears in his gray eyes through the blanket of night. The moon is the only thing lighting the room. "I don't know why, but for some reason it never occurred to me that you could speak Japanese."

"It's not like I'm fluent or anything," Kanda grumbles in return. "I haven't had to speak it since I was seven. Where I was from then on was all English speaking."

"Yeah, it also helps that your accent is really weak. I can't even notice until it's early morning or you're drunk or horny." He pauses. "I miss how you used to say my name."

"Beansprout?"

"No, my _name_."

"A_ll_en."

"You're doing that on purpose."

"Stop acting like an ass, then. I don't _enjoy_ slurring my words and sounding like an imbecile."

"You don't have to be so embarrassed, you know?" He smirks, leaning forward and brushing his lips against Kanda's ear. "Come on, say my name."

"How's about you fuck off?"

"Well, how's about we change that 'off' to 'me.'"

"_Jesus_, you're lame." Kanda rolls his eyes. "Is that supposed to turn me on?"

"It's _supposed_ to get your mind off of your nightmare," Allen snips, grinding his hips forward harshly. "Now stop being so damn difficult and have middle-of-the-night sex with me."

"Idiot," he returns, but follows up with a deep kiss. It sends shivers down his spine, just as many as when the Beansprout pushes his hips forward, and it's kind of astounding that a kiss could be so intense. When did it become this way?

"No need for sweet talk, Honey. Let's keep it dirty," Allen chuckles against his mouth, teasing.

And maybe that's why some part of all this _does_ work. Because even after everything that's happened to him – after Tiedoll and Daisya and Alma – simply being with the stupid Beansprout draws his mind away from the bad. He knows what to say without putting him completely on edge, even though he finds himself teetering often enough. He can wake up from the worst dream of this decade and still end up bickering and fucking moments later, can feel warmth he thought he'd lost.

Death is cold and dark and lonely.

But love is warm and bright and attentive.

And even if, maybe, the Beansprout's just a little bit right about him not admitting a few things, he's at least learning that maybe dying alone isn't all it's cracked up to be. Because, now, even if he does die, at least winter will be far away.

* * *

><p><strong>Hmmm this chapter didn't turn out QUITE how I wanted it to, which is why it took so long. It just wouldn't form to my initial idea. But I got a bit of what I wanted at least - Tiedoll and Daisya screentime. I don't think people appreciate how much Kanda probably does love his 'family,' even in the manga. Kanda's the kind of guy who doesn't exactly <strong>**_show_**** what he's feeling, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel. He may have been an experiment and everything, but he's not a robot, ya know?**

**Anyhow, I also got to introduce 'Big Brother' and I can't deny I'm kind of curious to see if people will get it. Apparently, according to my muse, it's not as obvious as I thought it was. lol**

**Thanks for reading, as always.**

**Also, new news! I have a tumblr for my writing now. There I'll be posting updates on Promises (which is coming along slowly but surely – I have up to chapter fifteen written) and I'll be there to answer any questions or concerns directly. Anything from background info on my fics to personal information – I'm pretty chill, so you can come talk with me. ****Tumblr: .com**


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Merry Christmas Allen, and Happy Birthday. This year, my gift to you is sweet lovin' (and an update). **

* * *

><p>There is relative comfort in waking up alone, Kanda finds. At least, when the bed is still warm and there's the concrete knowledge that the person who left their imprint next to you is not far away, probably just scarfing down food in the kitchen. Like this, he's not all tangled up, and he can relax. It's what he's used to, honestly, and something he's come to appreciate.<p>

Directly contrasting that, however, waking up entangled is something he's quickly growing used to again, and he wouldn't be able to find it in him to choose being alone over it. As comfortable as a warm bed can be when he doesn't have to worry about some idiot stealing all of the blankets, or half of a body thrown over his, or snoring directly in his ear, he'd probably get agitated if he was suddenly without it.

When he finally brings it in him to open his eyes - another restless night of nightmares down, a shitton more to go - the clock reads eight-fifteen, and he knows the Beansprout is already in class. It's a Thursday, right? He's lost track of the days. He only categorizes them by Marie's work schedule and Allen's early mornings.

He sits up, bleary, and finds a note on the pillow next to him. 'Eat,' is all it says, and he sighs in aggravation. His body feels worn out from the lack of sleep he got, but he gets up anyway.

At one point in time, Kanda would be up and out of bed by dawn, regardless of how well he slept, but that changed after last July when Allen started to stay over more often and coax him into staying in bed for hours after he would normally get up. If nothing else, the kid is persuasive; he can also sleep like the dead. On the flip side of that, he could be up at first daylight if he wanted to. Kanda supposes it just depends on his level of motivation to be coherent. He's fickle and changeable and the longer Kanda knows him, the more he realizes that there's nearly too much to find out. He's never going to know everything about Allen, and that's just fine with him. The Beansprout's never gonna know everything about him, either.

When he finally climbs out of the bed, he stretches and makes his way to the bathroom to comb out his hair and shower. He's learned it's better to bathe in the morning considering Allen just gets him dirty again as soon as they reach the bedroom.

When he gets to the kitchen and finds Marie there, eating whatever Allen made and left out for them, he realizes that his brother has been maybe a little too accommodating, but he doesn't care to ask. If he has nothing to say on Allen spending about eighty percent of his free time here, Kanda's not going to complain. Besides, it's easier to keep that idiot Beansprout out of trouble this way.

He sits across from Marie, resting his chin on his hand, and stares bleakly at the food on the table. It's unsurprisingly standard - Allen is very utilitarian when it comes to meals - and he doesn't find himself too enthused to eat it. Nevertheless, he does, if only so he doesn't get bitched out. With a grimace, he places some eggs on a plate and picks at them.

"Good morning," Marie says after a moment, breaking the wonderful silence. Kanda grunts in return. "Personable as always." He goes on, chuckling and biting a piece of toast.

"Not used to that yet?" Kanda sneers, and grimaces again at how raw his voice sounds from sleep.

"Oh, no - I'm quite used to it," Marie shakes his head. "I've known you for over a decade. It's humorous at this point."

"Happy to oblige," he grumbles back; it could almost be construed as moodily, if he wasn't a grown-ass man. Marie gives him a wry smile and doesn't comment again. Kanda's pleased by this.

By the time he's done picking, he figures it's time to get started on schoolwork again. It's not something he particularly enjoys - he's not that fucking Lavi - but it's something he realizes has to be done. Though, if he thinks about it long and hard enough, it seems pointless...so he does what he usually does and just avoids the fact that he'll be dead before a degree is any good to him at all. It keeps those around quiet.

It's somewhere around noon when he gets a phone call. The caller ID says it's Bak, and he nearly doesn't answer. The only reason he does is because it could be about Alma.

"What?" He snarls as a greeting.

_"I love hearing your pleasant, dulcet tones, Kanda, I really do,"_ Fo replies, mockingly sweet. _"It makes my goddamn day." _

"What do you want?" He narrows his eyes and his muscles tense is irritation.

_"It's sweet of you to be thinking about my birthday so early."_

"Get to the fucking point!"

_"It's a favor to Bak. And you. And...everyone really."_

He really hates when people get cryptic on him. It's the absolute fucking worst. "I will cut you into small pieces and ship you back to Japan if you don't get on with it."  
><em><br>"Like you could afford the postage."_ He nearly hears her rolling her eyes_. "Listen: I'm going to train you. You're probably weak as fuck and totally out of shape by this point and if there's any hope of getting out of this mess, we don't need you holding us back."_

"Holding you back?" He asks, incredulous and outraged. "What the fuck are you on about? And who is 'us?' You better not be talking about that idiot group of scientists, because they can't do fuck-all."  
><em><br>"Don't worry your darling little head about who I meant. Just answer the question, because I'm only gonna offer once."_

He pauses, considers. It has been quite a long time since he had any kind of training, and he hasn't been on any work-out regiment since last year. But there's also the fact that it would be _Fo_ teaching him, and he doesn't know if his blood pressure could handle that. "Training me in what?" When he fought with Alma, it was mostly on instinct, and there was little skill in his actions. Mostly he just blindly attacked, and only got the upper-hand because he happened to get his hands around Alma's throat. Even then, he's sure that Rhode let them 'win,' if you could consider what happened those few weeks ago as winning.

_"Hand-to-hand, mostly,"_ she says nonchalantly. He hears the phone rustle as she shrugs. _"Bak was thinking about having Zu Mei re-teach you how to use that katana Tiedoll bought you."_

That old fuck? "What the hell is he supposed to teach me? He can't fucking move!"

_"He can move just fine. Well, mostly fine. It's hearing that he has a bit of an issue with... Besides, you underestimate him."_ Unlikely. _"You'll have a sparring partner, but he'll instruct you."_

"A four foot girl is going to teach me how to fight and a senior citizen is going to show me the sword. I see no way this could fuck up," he replies, sardonic.

"_I'm four-_nine_, thank you very fuckin' much. Also, even if I'm a girl, I can still kick your ass._" He snorts, but she's probably right. For a moment, she's uncharacteristically quiet, and there's a sharp sense of foreboding there. Fo doesn't get quiet. She rambles, even when there's nothing left to say; she just likes to hear herself talk. _"You really don't remember do you?" _She sighs.

"What?" His head is very nearly swimming with confusion. There's been too much of this 'you don't remember,' shit lately.

"_Maybe rehabilitation worked a little too well_…" She smacks her lips in agitation. _"That's irrelevant right now. Just don't be a dick to Old Man Zu, or I'll kick your ass."  
><em>  
>As angry as that makes him, he knows at this point that there's no merit to asking those bastards anything. They're keen on keeping him stupid, for whatever reason. "Whatever," he bites back, cleverly. "So what's the deal with this shit? When and where and all that crap."<p>

_"I'm free whenever, but it'll be better to set up a schedule. Also, even though it's gonna start getting hotter than Satan's asshole soon, it's more likely we'll do it outside."_ By May, it'll be in the 80's, so she's not wrong. By June and July, it'll easily go into the 90's. With 90% humidity. He just fucking adores south Louisiana's weather. _"So I'm thinking seven AM, every other day, at Lafreniere Park."  
><em>  
>"In Metairie?"<p>

_"Yeah,"_ she replies_. "But, well, specifically, the field where the music festivals usually happen. I don't think Jefferson Parish wants two foreigners beating the shit out of each other on the lawn by the gazebo."_ He's sure that beating the shit out of each other and training are two separate things, but he doesn't comment.

"Whatever. I've had about enough of this fucking conversation, so hurry it up."

_"Fine, fine. Tomorrow morning, at the park. Don't be late."_

"When have I ever been late?" He snaps, but she just laughs.

_"See ya, Twinkle Toes."_

He suddenly sees how training and beating the shit out of someone could be considered synonymous.

* * *

><p>Beansprout doesn't even ask anymore, and that kind of pisses him off. He just walks in, kisses Kanda once, then sits at the coffee table and spreads his homework out on the table. Doesn't say a word, just goes about his business as if he lives here.<p>

Well, he kind of does lately, but it's still aggravating.

By the time five arrives, he leaves again to go to his music practice shit, and then comes right back by eight-thirty. Kanda sees him more now than when they were actually dating. And he can only handle so much Allen Walker.

"Do you even have a fucking life outside of school?"

Allen looks at him from where he's reclined on the couch. The white-haired boy shrugs, throws his feet up to lay across Kanda's lap - which he promptly throws off with a snarl - and marks his page in his text book before closing it and setting it aside. "Not particularly. And you're one to talk. What do you even do all day while you're here?"

Stay fucking bored, mostly. "I'm starting a training regiment, actually," he sneers. He dutifully doesn't answer Allen's question. "And working on my degree."

"Congrats, Kanda. I liked when you had muscles. And you'll be working towards a beautiful garden we can hang off Marie's windowsill. I can't wait."

"You motherfucker!" He snaps, harshly slapping the kid on the arm. Allen recoils a little, but his expression doesn't change, as if he wasn't surprised. He feels the rage burning in his chest, but he holds himself from lashing out and beating Beansprout to a pulp. Barely.

Allen laughs then, throwing his head back against the armrest and putting his feet on Kanda's lap again. Again, Kanda shoves them off. But that turns it into a game, and by the end of it, Allen is simply completely laid across on him and there's a black arm in his face.

He bites, hard. "Ow, hell Kanda..." The kid frowns, but he doesn't actually seem upset or hurt. "Way to be affectionate."

"I try," he responds, sarcastic. He goes to push Allen off of him, without much success. "All that food is making you fat, Beansprout! Get offa me!"

This just makes Allen laugh and relax, turning into something close to dead weight. "Here, you can start your training with me."

"You're so useless!" He snarls. He goes to slap Allen again, but the boy just grabs his wrist and kisses his palm gently. For some reason, the action feels intimate, and he warms a little. Even now, it's still odd for him to get affection in a form other that sex. It's really all he ever knew before Allen. Christian was gentle like that too, but Kanda rarely stood for it. Allen is the first, really...it worries him from time to time. He's really gotten soft...

"Feel better, Darling?" Beansprout asks then, tongue curving around the pet name with expertise and relative ease. Kanda knows he's doing it on purpose, but it unfortunately has its desired effect.

"Whatever," he grumbles, looking away. Allen's going to stay on his lap regardless of what he says or does anyway.

They grow quiet, and Allen interlaces their fingers, stroking with his thumb. Kanda doesn't stop him, and the boy settles more comfortably, which he's grateful for. "You know," he starts after an indeterminate amount of time. Kanda was enjoying that silence, too. Why does Allen always have to run his mouth? "I'm grateful."

"What? Why?" He's got a fucked up arm, his dad's dead, and the NOAH want him to be their best friend.

"You could have shut me out and you didn't." He certainly tried. It doesn't feel like he ever had a choice in the matter. "I think, after everything...I don't know, I guess it would have been the icing on the cake. I would have dealt with it, I always deal with shit, but its better when you're around. You make it easy to forget there was anything bad in the first place."

Kanda understands what he means. "Yeah," he returns, though he didn't really mean to. He doesn't play it off though, just let's it hang in the air.

"And I'm really curious about your past. Like, _really_ curious, but that's counterintuitive. I guess that would make it hard to forget."

Kanda sighs and runs his free hand through his hair. "Sometimes it's impossible to forget. There are just times you don't recall."

"Wouldn't that be the same thing?" Allen chuckles, amused.

"No. Losing memories are harder than people think. As time passes, it just gets harder to access them." He states up at the ceiling. "And sometimes, even when recalling something, it doesn't have to hurt."

"Is that your way of telling me I take your pain away? How uncharacteristically romantic."

"Don't push your luck, Beansprout."

He looks down to see Allen smiling at him gently. "I think I've been pushing my luck since I met you." He has a point. "But I like it better this way. There'd be no fun if you told me outright that you were in love with me," he laughs softly, and maybe a little sadly, but Allen is so good at masks that it's hard to tell.

Kanda bristles at that, though. That is not an okay thing to say. Not now. Not after everything. And the worst part is that he can't even refute it, can't do anything but look away.

"Kanda?" Allen goes on. His grip tightens. "Hey, you can reply to that, ya know," he says gently, almost coaxing.

Kanda snorts, but his derision is weak and obviously fake. "You always say stupid, sappy shit."

"I think it's important to say sappy shit sometimes." Kanda says nothing to that. "Listen, I've seen enough women hurt by Cross to realize how important communication is."

"You calling me a woman?"

"Can you not be abrasive for, like, two minutes? Is that too much to ask?" Allen sighs. "I get that it's a defense mechanism, but holy shit."

"At least I'm consistent," Kanda narrows his eyes. "You go all over the fucking place."

Allen ignores what he said and maneuvers so that he's able to tuck his head against Kanda's shoulder. "Besides, there's probably not much time left. I'd rather say the sappy shit now rather than never say it at all."

"Goddamn, don't make it sound so final," he finds himself saying. "You're just giving up."

Allen looks at him then, eyes ablaze. "If anything, I don't know how to give up. I spend every night trying to think of a way out of this, and I'm very good at thinking."

"Thinking isn't going to do shit."

At this, Beansprout tenses. "Kanda, if I don't have a plan, I'm fucked."

Kanda purses his lips, conceding a little. "What's your plan then, Genius?"

Allen looks at their hands. His voice is even and hard when he says, "I haven't figured that out yet. But I'm getting there."

Kanda doesn't really feel like pressing that, because this conversation is getting annoying. Allen's being stupid about this; there has to be another way, and whatever Fo was talking about seems like it could be much more effective than thought.

"You need to train too, at least," he says after a moment. Allen looks up at him, confused.

"What?"

"Train. Your weak ass wouldn't be able to do jack shit in a fight."

"I resent that," he returns. He doesn't deny it, though. Beansprout is surprisingly strong, but, to Kanda's knowledge, not trained in combat. Though he did stay with that idiot godfather of his for a few years – there's no telling what the kid had to do. "But I don't really have time for that anyway." Allen moves away from him, and Kanda is equal parts relieved and agitated. He doesn't dwell on that. "I'm kind of strapped for time right now."

"You sure loaf around here a lot for someone without free time. Didn't you just say you don't do much besides schoolwork?"

Allen glares at him. The expression is a little exciting; Kanda really enjoys it when the kid gets all indomitable. It makes things interesting again. "I don't do much besides schoolwork because I don't have time for anything else. Between that and music, I'm gone most of the day. And when I'm here – do you ever see me do anything besides study or practice?"

Now that he mentions it, not really. "Regardless, training your body is a lot more important than graduating valedictorian!" Really, though! Kanda understands the point of education – it was something Tiedoll instilled in him that actually stuck. In high school, as lenient as the old man was with Kanda's behavior, there was always a push to succeed. It kind of helped Kanda, too, since before he came to America there wasn't a lot of learning going on. The education system here isn't wonderful, it's abhorrent in fact, but it's better than nothing. Still, none of that shit matters if you're just going to get captured by a mob family at the end of the summer.

"I don't have that much longer, though! I'm so close to finishing that it would be stupid not to."

"It'll be even more stupid when you're dead on the ground!"

"It's the only thing that feels relatively normal to me, Kanda! Playing piano, going to classes, it makes everything seem so much simpler!"

"Don't turn into a fucking retreatist!"

"Stop saying that! I'm not giving up!"

"Sure as hell seems so!"

Allen's red in the face from anger, and probably exertion from yelling. The neighbors are probably pissed, but he couldn't care any less. "If you're that fucking worried about me, just say so!"

"You're absolutely hopeless! Of course I'm worried about you!"

Allen immediately shuts his mouth. He opens it again to say something, but nothing comes out. Kanda's hit full in the face with the implications of what he said, then, and he quickly gets up from the couch, unnaturally flustered from anger and mortification. He's probably just as red as Beansprout, and he hates that.

"Sometimes it's really hard to see past that asshole exterior you put on," Allen says from behind him, sounding a little subdued. It's very nearly pleasant, and Kanda hates that he's switched so quickly again. He's put the mask on, that annoying thing that he uses to hide his negative feelings.

There's something in Kanda that knows Allen's feeling beyond restless, beyond what he sees, and he's just not saying anything. That he's covering it up, trying to make everything seem okay again. That's what he does. False impassivity is in his nature, Kanda assumes. Serenity is a blanket he throws over himself to hide away from the anger, from the anxiety. It's fucking unfair, all of it, to both of them, and Allen pushes it away until he can't hold it in anymore. Until it erupts into an argument, which Kanda relishes, because it's the only time Beansprout is being honest.

But it makes him honest, too. Far too honest. And contrary to popular belief, Kanda doesn't appreciate throwing his feelings out into the open. If people know his weaknesses, it makes him vulnerable, and vulnerability is the last thing they need right now.

"Are you gonna sit back down?"

Kanda doesn't want to. Beyond any reasonable doubt, it's the very last thing he wants to do, but Allen softly touches the back of his hand and he does it anyway. "You're actually mad at me, aren't you?" Beansprout asks.

"I'm always mad at you," Kanda counters, turned away from him.

Allen chuckles. "Fair enough."

"I've had about enough of your fake bullshit."

"I know…"

"Then stop it!"

"I do, sometimes…it's harder to break out of a habit than you think." No, he knows it's difficult. "I realize it aggravates you, but if all we did was yell we'd never get anything done. And it's the only thing I can do to keep from wringing your neck sometimes. I just close my eyes and count to ten."

"You're an idiot."

"It works for the most part. One of us has to be reasonable."

"There's a difference between reasonability and putting on that shitty clown mask whenever things get too hard."

"Clown mask, huh?" he hears a soft laugh come from Allen, next to him. "Accurate, I suppose. Putting that aside…" Hands move to play with the ends of his hair and his eyebrow ticks in response. He hates when people fuck around with his hair. But then those hands press against his back and move up, to the nape of his neck, then to his scalp. He deftly, efficiently pulls out Kanda's hair tie before scratching in an admittedly comforting manner. "Relax. We're not in battle. We're just at home."

"I'm not a fucking dog, Beansprout," he snarls, but doesn't stop him. He hates people fucking with his hair, he really does, and he has a thing against being touched in general, but Allen rests his chin against Kanda's shoulder and he doesn't stop him. Those arms move to wrap around his neck, interlace by his chest, and he doesn't stop him. Lips press to his ear, gently, intimately, and he doesn't stop him.

"I'm very aware, you insufferable man."

Allen's the insufferable one. Doing this stupid shit to him. Complicating things.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?"

Kanda rolls his eyes. "Get off my case."

"Hey, I'm hungry, Asshole." He's sounding more American every day. How disgusting. "I was going to suggest going to get something to eat."

"It's nine at night."

"We live in New Orleans."

True. "I have training tomorrow."

"I have school."

"I'm not hungry."

"I am."

"You're always hungry."

"Yeah I am. Let's go, come on." Allen stands, and Kanda looks up at him. He's floored by the expression on Beansprout's face, but he'd never let it show. Gentleness isn't supposed to matter.

Nevertheless, he purses his lips and stands, grabbing his hair tie back from Allen and pulling his hair up again. "I hate you."

"I know," Allen smiles and grabs his hand. "I hate you, too."

He sneers and grabs his keys and wallet before following Allen out of the house.

* * *

><p>"We have to be up at six-thirty tomorrow morning, Beansprout."<p>

"What's your point?"

"That now is an awful time to fuck."

"It's never an awful time."

"We just ate, motherfucker."

"You're almost acting like you don't _want_ to have sex. That is odd and unlike you."

"Stop making me sound like a slut."

"You kind of are a slut…Wait, does this kind of talk turn you on?"

"You make me want to throw up."

"You make me want to do lots of things, and most of them involve violence –"

"We have so much in common."

"– so let's take advantage of the good stuff, yeah?"

It's abysmally dark in the bedroom, but Kanda's gotten used to the darkness fairly quickly. Enough to see white hair directly above him, chrome eyes dulled to dark gray; Allen is on top of him, and it's uncomfortable for so many different reasons.

It's not even that he doesn't want to have sex, because Allen's mostly right, it's just that he has a feeling he'll regret it tomorrow if they go through with it. Oh well. Beansprout always fucking gets what he wants.

"Lascivious little bitch," Kanda growls, gripping the hand caressing his hip bone and bringing it forward to nip at his fingertips.

Allen gives an excited squeak. "I like big words."

"Nerd," Kanda snorts, and gets hips ground into his in response. He exhales sharply through his nose and his body arches upward. Even now, after as many times as he and Allen have fucked – or any variation of that – it's still like electricity. If nothing else, their bodies are extremely compatible.

Allen leans forward a little, pressing their chests together and entangling their legs. There are so many points of contact that it makes Kanda's head spin; every inch of him burns like fire. It's only this kid on top of him that can make him like this.

"Kanda," Allen whispers, exhales, and suddenly scorching hands are under his shirt, running up along his ribs, and Kanda lifts himself a little in order to let his shirt come off. "You're burning up, you know. Your body's so warm."

And whose fault is that? "It's not like you're ice cold," he retorts, leaning his head back into the pillow when Allen's fingers brush against his collarbone, his Adam's apple, his jawline. His touches are gentle and almost reverent, and this is probably something that Kanda's needed for a while.

He finds that these affections are new to him as well, even now; sexual intimacy is something he really hasn't had much of a shortage of, but Allen seems to worship his body, and that's something strange to him. It could be just because Kanda's the first person he's slept with, the first person he's gotten to explore, but it feels like it's more than that. "And your heartbeat is insane," Allen goes on, moving his hands down to press flat against Kanda's chest. "It's probably as fast as mine."

He grips Kanda's hand and brings it to his chest, and Kanda relishes the flutter of a heartbeat against that warm skin. Alive. That's something he needs to feel, too, and Allen does make him feel so fucking alive. It's sobering, having this strange connection; they're two different people with more similarities than either would like to admit, and there's a solace in that. Feeling life thrum through Allen is like feeling it himself, filling and crashing through his veins like a drug.

Sanity is a strange concept to him, so foreign it might as well be a vicious lie and impossible for anyone to achieve. Locking himself in his house and freezing to death was far from sane, but here he's drowning in a different sort of delusion. Everything is distorted, and he's sure that his – their – reality is something totally separate from everyone else's. The experiences they've had, both apart and shared, are something that only they know and Kanda is sure no one else will ever be able to understand.

"It's going to be okay," Allen whispers into the air, not directing the words at anything in particular. "We're safe, we're fine." His shirt comes off then, and Kanda can't see very well in this darkness, but the sharp contrast of white and black skin on his left arm is still eye-catching. Kanda leans up enough to kiss the line there, a sharp and clean edge as if it were a tattoo – as if it had always meant to exist.

"Of course we are," Kanda responds, already heady with desire and warmth. He flips them over then, because Allen is moving maddeningly slow, and bites at the column of that pale throat. The white-haired boy gasps, appreciative, so Kanda continues on, biting and nipping down to his nipples, hands working at stripping him down completely.

"Yes," Allen hisses, fingers running through his hair. He pulls softly and Kanda lets out a soft, low keening sound before moving lower, tongue pressing to his navel and then moving down to bite at the inside of his thigh. "Kanda." His voice is already wrecked and broken and gorgeous, accent thick once again and as deep as Kanda's ever heard it.

He wastes no more time, then, and takes Allen into his mouth completely. His pale skin is feverish; his entire body seems to tremble with anticipation or ecstasy or trepidation, and he continues on until Allen is a writhing mess. Begging him, pleading with him, calling out his name until the word seems to lose its intrinsic meaning and all that's left is an amalgamation of sound and feeling.

When he knows Allen is close, he stops, and he almost expects the boy to whine, to beg him further, but he doesn't. He looks at Kanda right in the eyes, silver chrome reflecting moonlight, shining and creating a focal point so that he has no choice but to stare back; he's still shaking, tremors racking his body, but maybe that's just Kanda himself. He feels static in his fingertips, his muscles are tense and there's the sharp and distinct feeling of arousal filling him up to the point of irrationality. To the point where he's climbing back up Allen's body and kissing him harshly, to prove a point, to make him experience that wet, pungent taste, to let him know that they are safe and that they are fine. He bites at Allen's lip, hard enough to taste metallic blood, and the boy underneath him groans. "Kanda," he calls. "Kanda, come on. More."

It's not quite begging, something like urging, something like impatience. He knows Kanda's going to give him more, and he's tired of waiting. He must be bothered, after being so close to orgasm and then denied it, but he doesn't complain. Maybe some masochistic part of him enjoys it, or he simply endures it because he thinks he has to.

"What?" He asks, breathy but mocking. "More what?"

"Mmm, don't be a bastard. You know what."

"I can't read your mind, Beansprout."

Of course Kanda knows what he means. He's not stupid, he gets it. But he and Allen haven't actually fucked since they initially stopped seeing each other. Every sexual interaction since then has involved nearly everything but. Beyond that, though, he _is_ unsure of how Allen wants it, how he needs it.

It's been so long that he would normally think he couldn't recall what the Beansprout liked or didn't like, but he's played it over so many times in his head that it's fresh and clear. Still, things have changed since then, and he really can't read Allen's mind. He doesn't really care how it happens, or even that it happens – he's not driven by that specific desire, it's just a plus. This level of intimacy is fine for him. So this is all for Allen; whatever he wants, whatever he needs.

"Inside me," Allen whispers after a moment, as if he's embarrassed. That's odd, since Beansprout long ago got used to communication in bed and its importance. He's never been afraid to ask for what he wants, and he's always been receptive to what Kanda does. "And it's been a while, so…go slow."

He's asking for gentleness, which Kanda's fine with. And maybe it's the intimacy that's embarrassing him, maybe he thinks that it's not okay, that Kanda'd deny him if the sex turned into something other than physical pleasure. But it's never been about that, really. The desire is of course there, obviously they're into each other physically; but from the first time they had sex to this right now…it's never been meaningless. He realizes that this has a lot to do with him and how uncomfortable he is with expression, but it's there. It's concrete and real. The Beansprout is just bad at reading between the lines, or maybe that's his masochism at work again.

"Then there's no room to get impatient," Kanda responds, reaching for lubricant.

"I know, I know," he nods, more times than necessary. "But I am anyway."

"You can't have both, Beansprout. Make up your damn mind."

But he's past that. He knows what Allen wants, and he's not going to be completely tortuous about it.

There _is_ a certain discomfort regarding this, though. Not physically, not by a long shot, but emotionally. Before Allen, fucking was just another action, something else to feel good, but it means more now. This is a step. It's as though they've started over, and this is going to bring a whole new stratum to their relationship. Because things are still ambiguous and there have been no set boundaries or lines, both of them have deliberately avoided discussing it seriously. Allen's comforted him, has said a lot of things that people who aren't serious don't say, but this…this is him outwardly responding to that. And real relationships are a give and take, are mutual.

He pushes that aside though, the awkwardness, how uncomfortable he feels, and focuses on Allen. He coats his fingers in lubricant, trails fingertips down Allen's erection, pushes his hand down until his palm is pressed flat against skin and he's able to press the pad of his middle finger to his entrance. It's hot, hotter than any other inch of Allen's skin, and the boy groans as Kanda circles there, pressing, teasing gently with his fingernail. He peppers kisses along Allen's ribs, flicking his tongue against them, and his other hand reaches underneath the white-haired boy's knee and slowly hikes his leg up.

He pushes his finger inside, slowly, but it seems as though he doesn't have to be as gentle as he assumed. Allen's tight, but not like he first was, not impossibly so, and it occurs to Kanda that Allen's still in practice with this at least. "You're not nearly as pure as you lead others to believe," he says against Allen's skin, lips dragging.

"I'm sure I don't know…what you mean," Allen replies, breath hitching as Kanda slides his finger in and out, feels that smooth, hot inside. It's even better than he'd remembered it.

When he's certain Allen's ready to go further, he pours more lubricant and adds a second finger, carefully watching his face contort in the darkness. Generally, the initial stretch shouldn't be painful, simply uncomfortable, and Allen's expression reflects that, which is a positive.

He kisses Allen on the mouth again, coaxing his pliant lips to open as he scissors his fingers and prepares him. Tiny moans slip between them, and Allen repeats just as tiny affirmations as Kanda slips in a third finger. This is going to be enough, he knows, but he still continues to go slow, petting Allen's insides and feeling around. He isn't necessarily trying to find his prostate, because Allen's probably so on edge that that kind of stimulation would send him into a full blown orgasm, but it happens anyway.

Allen jolts, arms coming up to wrap around Kanda's torso and fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. "Kanda. Good…ah…it's good…"

"Hold on, Beansprout," he manages out, biting Allen's jaw and withdrawing his fingers.

"Call…call me Allen, Kanda."

That's probably not a good idea, but he silently concedes anyway, determined to focus on both Allen's pleasure and keeping his head high enough above water that he doesn't become incoherent.

They're already making a complete mess – the sheets are soaked from sweat and lube – so he doesn't feel bad about making more of one. He pours lube on himself, then directly on Allen's entrance before lifting the boy's legs, lining himself, and then slowly pushing in. He's met with resistance, of course, because it _has_ been a while; they haven't done this since summer of last year.

Allen's sure to exhale when Kanda pushes forward a little more, used to utilizing breathing to help the process along, and Kanda's forced to grit his teeth at the sheer intensity of moving deeper. This is brand new all over again, the tightness, the heat, the fingernails digging into his skin; this could feasibly break him in two. There's too much sensation, everywhere, bleeding into him, and sanity is further away now than it's ever been before.

When he's as far in as he think he's comfortable with going, he leans forward, evens out his breathing, brings his lips to Allen's collarbone. "Allen," he whispers there, and the boy groans loudly at that.

"You…fuck…you didn't say that right."

He doesn't grace that with a response, but he does say Allen's name again; his lips carve the syllables into his skin, leaving scars, and he will never be able to forgive this kid for doing this to him. For turning him into this.

What is he anymore? Who is he? He's been defined by hate, revenge, and now…his feelings for this stupid boy wrapped completely around him. There is no longer a Kanda Yu, just a conglomerate mess of dissonance that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He doesn't think he'll ever again know who he is.

"K…Kanda," Allen breathes, scratching down his biceps.

But if he can go by this moment, give semantic meaning to his existence, then he is probably nothing more than the sighs that spill from Allen Walker's lips. He doesn't want to feel that intrinsic need for revenge; he'd much rather this. As much as it brings him discomfort, it is still so much better than who he was or could have been.

He starts to move then, hips slowly canting backwards, then forwards, picking up a slow rhythm that has Allen gasping for air, scrambling to take hold of something – skin, sheets, whatever he finds purchase on. When there's nothing left but need, but lust, but fire in his lungs, he speeds up, going deeper than before; he's forced to kiss Allen to keep him relatively quiet. The wet press of tongues is nearly lost on him under the bombardment of sensation, and he's suddenly very glad that he wasn't stimulated before this because he's already sure that he's not going to last very long. It's too much, far too much, and it's Allen. Allen, who tells him it's alright and makes him believe it. Allen, who cares more about him than himself. Allen, who scratches his scalp when he's pissed and kisses him before he heads to school and has made him watch more dumb eighties movies than he'd ever like to admit. Allen, who he beyond a doubt could fight the NOAH for.

"I love you," Allen says, but he doesn't need to. "I love you," he repeats, over and over again like a mantra. "And it's okay, everything is okay, because you're here. Because I'm here with you. And I love you." Tears prickle at the edges of his eyes and Kanda licks them away. "Forget the bad stuff, just be here with me."

"I'm here," he says back, and he means it in every way it possibly could. "Allen, I'm right here."

"Yeah," he gasps, and it could be from pleasure as much as agreement.

And it does go away. All of the bad feelings disappear, lost in the chaos. No NOAH, Alma never left, Japan never happened; only here, and only now, and Allen is here and he is here and here is all that there'll ever be again.

Allen comes first, but Kanda is soon after, burying his face in the crook of Allen's neck and riding his orgasm out. It's more intense than any other time he can remember, and he can't stop the strangled noise resembling Allen's name that leaves him.

When they come down from it, breathing heavy and relaxed, but minds clearer than ever before, the first thing he perceives is the exuberant mess they're lying in. This doesn't motivate him to move though; he lies there until Allen mentions his discomfort.

"God," the white-haired boy whispers after a moment. The air around them has a very strong scent of sex and Allen, but that doesn't bother him at all. "Why'd we stop doing that?"

Kanda feels Allen's hand in his own and he sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "Because everything in our lives is shit."

"Valid point." He pauses. "But that stuff doesn't matter right now…"

Silence. Kanda knows Allen's speaking in reference to himself, but he feels that way too. "No, it doesn't. Memories are only meaningful when we assign meaning to them. Our feelings on past experiences are subject to change."

"That doesn't sound quite right…"

"It's about perception, Beansprout. Just because something hurt before, it doesn't mean it always will, and just because something doesn't hurt now, doesn't mean it won't later. How we feel about things is based on our current situation."

"That's awfully existential for you, Kanda. I thought you only liked planting."

Kanda purses his lips. This fucker's agitating him again already. And he was just relaxed, too.

"You're a motherfucker."

"And you hate me. I know, I know."

It goes quiet again. There's only the sound of the heater kicking on, then off, for a long time. Cars pass outside, breathing slows, the wind is silent. Here is the only thing there'll ever be.

"I…it doesn't hurt now," Allen whispers. "The things that hurt before. So I know what you mean. And I think, in the future, it's quite possible they could hurt again. But right now, here with you, those things don't hurt at all."

"That's what I said, Beansprout."

"I know. It just wasn't what I expected to hear. And if you'd let me I…I'd like to talk to you about the things that hurt before and might hurt again. I want to tell you while they aren't so painful."

Kanda sighs again and sits up. "We'll clean up first."

He sees Allen nod from the corner of his eye. "Yeah."

* * *

><p>When they finally lay down again, they leave the light off. They're going to talk, Kanda knows, which is fine because he's not tired at all. He'll regret it tomorrow at training, but that's irrelevant. The light stays off even though they're staying up because it's easier to talk in the dark.<p>

Allen doesn't talk for a while, and Kanda doesn't prompt him to. He'd almost think the boy was falling asleep if he wasn't so quiet and so still. When he finally does start though, his voice is soft and unsure, but his words are concise and thought-out.

"I don't remember my biological parents. Sometimes I think I do, but I don't think the memories are real. I figure I probably dreamt someone up, and then just stuck with the idea. I don't know what happened, because I certainly didn't meet Mana until I was a good bit older, but I don't remember them." He pauses for an intake of breath. "I know that I used to be called Red. I don't know why, I just was. It's so long ago now that I don't think I could remember if my life depended on it. Maybe my lost memories have something to do with NOAH? From…trying to forget, or being made to forget. And I think about that a lot. About the things that I don't know, but should." Kanda understands that perfectly.

"When I was traveling with Mana, I felt on top of the world. Or I remember remembering that I did. It's very weird, trying to grasp anything from that time. At this point, I'm sure that certain things are only there because I've gone over them so many times. Anyway, we went to a lot of places. Sometimes we stayed there for a long time, sometimes we were only there for a couple of days. There was something like a fight for survival at that time, too, though it wasn't always so literal, and that's probably what prepared me for travelling with Cross. Though things were different in a lot of ways, it sometimes feels like they weren't at all...

"Mana…Mana was sick. As a kid it was a little harder to realize, but he was. There's no denying it now. Looking back, I suppose he was never really fit to raise a child, and neither is Cross, so that explains how I turned out to be so normal." Kanda snorts, recognizing Allen's sarcasm and agreeing with it whole-heartedly. "There were a lot of times when he got confused, when he'd forget. My name…well, it wasn't even my name originally. Like I said, I was called Red back then. The name Allen originally belonged to a dog. I don't remember what the dog looked like, or what he acted like, but I remember how I felt when he died. I remember burying him. I remember how upset Mana was.

"Around that time, I met Neah. I remember nothing at all about him. Not a thing. I just have gut feelings for what he was like. For some reason, there's just…I know that he was good to Mana. And to me by extension, I guess. He and Mana…they were good people. They did their best to get by. They did what they could. That's why it's so hard to believe that…" he trails off. "To believe that…he…"

"You don't have to keep talking if you don't want to."

"No, I want to. I do, it's just…I don't know. Some part of me is scared to say it. Because at this point, it's believable. After everything, the things that I thought that I knew…it turns out I don't know anything about them at all."

It can be hard to trust in one thing, and then be confronted with something that challenges that. Once a belief is set, it takes a fucking miracle to break away from it.

For as much as Allen says he wants to keep talking about it, he doesn't. He goes very quiet for quite a while before he says, "You have training tomorrow and I have class, so we should probably go to sleep."

To be honest, Kanda doesn't really care what happens either way. Learning about what the beansprout went through is interesting, but isn't something he would consider necessary knowledge. It's cathartic for the kid, so he forwent annoyance and sleep and just let it happen, but he's right. They need to get some amount of sleep.

Neither of them say another word. Kanda settles into his side of the bed – something that just happened, the idea that they have sides has gone completely unspoken and he prefers it that way –, lying on his back; Allen scoots in, curving his body to Kanda's and resting his head on his shoulder, and Kanda lets him. He generally doesn't like points of contact while they sleep, but he lets him anyway. Even wraps his arm around the kid a little.

Allen sighs something like, "I love you." Sleep takes over.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey, if you want more updates on this thing (which is coming along slowly but surely - I was going to wait until I finished writing the entire story to upload, but I thought I'd just bring a little Christmas miracle) (I'm getting close, by the way. Up to chapter 16 is written and up to chapter 22 is planned. It's gonna be long...)I have a tumblr for it now (apoppyflowersinnocence is <strong>**the URL). I'll answer questions, concerns, comments, and whatever else is thrown at me, along with background info on characters and small updates and sneak peeks at future chapters. I'll probably also post normal DGM things like arts and Hoshino instagrams. So HMU, yo.**

**And Merry Christmas, Ya Filthy Animals. (I love you all.) **


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter 12**

This is fucking miserable. Working with Fo is something like complete torture, and he knew it would be from his past with her and Bak. Admittedly, there's a lot that he _doesn't_ remember about her, but this annoying sarcasm and bite of hers has left imprints on his mind, and it makes him want to decapitate people.

Lately, ever since everyone and their fucking grandmother's been saying it, he's come to realize there really is a helluva a lot of shit he doesn't remember. Did they spar before he left Japan? It seems as though they would have, but he can't recall. And how old is she? She doesn't look like she aged even a day.

And then…Alma. More and more often, he's been spacing out and thinking about him; ever since the night on the riverboat. What does he really remember? It was over a decade ago, so it's bound to be hazy, but it's worse than that. He remembers waking up with bright lights above him, seeing a boy with dark hair and dark eyes and a scar over his nose. He remembers pointedly trying to avoid him and failing. He remembers his very intense love of mayonnaise. He remembers blood. Blood, blood, like flower petals falling from the ceiling, pooling on the floor.

But they were around each other for months. Alma is someone that he feels like he knows, but in reality, there's so much that is still in the dark. Is there something that he could have done to stop him from siding with the NOAH?

Did he even kill those scientists because of them?

He pushes that aside. Those kinds of thoughts don't do him any favors.

Even though Fo's an annoying fuck, she is good. She has more control over her body and movements than he's seen in a long time, and there's never a wasted action.

She explains that she going to teach him two main styles of fighting, which can break into subsets. To start, she's going to stick to formal types – very by-the-book; as time goes on, however, it's going to turn into something closer to contemporary street fighting. And that's totally fine with him. Both are effective, and both are important.

"Listen, Pretty Boy," she says, before they even start. "The martial arts I'm going to teach you are gonna be everything from Shorinji Ki Do and Aikido, to Soo Bak Do, to Boxing. Obviously we don't have time to delve into anything too deeply, so we're focusing on the important basics; Shorinji Ki Do and Aikido are mostly focused on self-defense and using throws to keep your opponent away from you, Soo Bak Do is gonna help with movement, flexibility, and mental focus, and from Boxing we're gonna take stance and offensive power. Think of this as a makeshift MMA thing that I'm making up right here on the spot. It might not be pretty or anything like that, but hopefully it's gonna keep your happy ass alive. Well, I'm not too hopeful, but..." She shrugs at him, and he knows it's supposed to rile him up. It works.

"Shut your fucking mouth and get on with it."

She smirks at him and leans back on her heels. The wind makes her very red hair fly into her face, but it doesn't seem to bother her. It sure as hell would bother him, so he's gone ahead and pulled everything back that he can to tie it up into a relatively tight bun.

"Yeah, yeah, Miss Congeniality. We're gonna work on street fighting too, like I mentioned earlier. It's not cut and dry techniques like martial arts. It's fast, and it's dirty, and it's bloody, so I'm sure you'll excel."

He pointedly doesn't reply to her.

"And next time, dress in something easier to move in – something tight but non-restrictive, ya hear?" Whatever. "Now, with any kind of fighting, you have to understand the methodology and history of it, and how limited or unlimited it is. But I ain't a professor, so I'm not gonna sit here and lecture – you look up that shit in your own time. Think of it like homework." Because he needs more homework. "Today we're starting with stretches and all that basic shit. You look about as flexible as a pencil right now."

At one time he was more flexible, when he was training and using Mugen in contests and shit like that. But that was years ago, and after the death of Tiedoll, he stopped the pretty, fluid crap that traditional martial arts generally entails. His anger motivated him to things cruder and more based on strength. And then, more recently, he's stopped even that. So as much as he hates to admit it, she's not lying.

Like meditation, stretching and 'all that basic shit,' is good for clearing the mind. Getting technical, what they're going to do is something like yoga.

They don't have mats, so they just sit on the ground. This is going to ache later. "Okay, Precious One, now lean forward and touch your toes," Fo instructs, and he rolls his eyes, but does as he's told anyway. He realizes that eventually he's going to have to get used to her fucking pet names.

This goes on for at least an hour before Fo slaps him on the shoulder and tells him that's it for the day. And he's going to be able to learn to block out her annoying fucking name calling, but he does not tolerate being touched. Ever. And he's never going to.

So he swings at her, which she dodges with ease. He swings at her again, and she blocks. "You're so enthusiastic!" she laughs. "Just like when you were a kid. Violent as fuck."

He goes to hit her a final time, this time more in anger, but that fails miserably too. "Why don't you stop being so damn cryptic and annoying and tell me all that shit that I apparently don't remember? Because I'm getting tired of people making comments like that."

Her laughter trails off. "I don't think it would matter much," she replies, shrugging and throwing her arms behind her head nonchalantly. "But if you have so many questions about your past, why are you asking me? Talk to that idiot Bak. Or Old Man Zu whenever you see him. By the way, it's Kendo he's going to be teaching you, so be ready for that. It's different from-"

"Don't deflect," he snarls, crossing his arms. "You people fucking piss me off. You say you know me so goddamn well, and then leave it at that. You know something else that's going on, but you won't say what. I know Bak has some idea about Alma, and I know your ass knows something about the NOAH, but you fucking assholes are totally content to let me stay in the dark!"

"It's for your own good," she says, narrowing her eyes.

"Of course it fucking is," he snaps. "That's always the answer, isn't it?"

She doesn't say anything for a long time, just looks at the open field and the way that the wind makes the grass move in waves reminiscent of a lake. "There are things that…if I told you…well, let's just say it could put you in even more trouble than you're already in." A pause. "I know you're gonna hate me for this, because I can't elaborate – keyword, _can't_ – but there's someone coming here, to New Orleans, and it's no coincidence. You need to prepare yourself mentally, trust me on that. It's not going to be fun, but there's nothing anyone can do to stop it. If we could, we would. And…go ahead and mention that to Lenalee, too. I don't think Komui's gonna say anything to her, because he won't want her to worry, but you don't know who it is so she won't be able to figure it out, either."

"So she knows whatever fucker's coming?"

"Oh yeah," Fo nods, still not looking at him. "There's a storm coming, Mr. Wayne, so take cover. That little boyfriend you've got wrapped around your finger, Allen Walker – keep him close. Pushing him away will be a huge mistake for both of you." She kicks at the ground and starts walking away, towards the parking lot. "But you didn't hear that from me."

He watches her until she disappears, never moving from his spot.

* * *

><p>"She said that?" Beansprout asks in response to Kanda's answer about training. It's a Friday afternoon, but he doesn't have lessons for piano today since his teacher is out with a cold. "What do you think it means?"<p>

He had pointedly left out what she had said about keeping Allen close. He almost doesn't even know why, but he's self-aware of himself enough to guess. "Like I have any fucking idea." He pauses for a moment, not sure of how much he wants to keep to himself. "But I've been having these stupid ass dreams about someone called 'Big Brother' and then your idiot guardian called and mentioned him, too. I don-"

"Wait, wait, wait – my _godfather_ called you? Why the hell didn't you tell me?!"

"I didn't think about it," Kanda shrugs.

"You didn't – Kanda, what the hell!? He hasn't called me in _ages_!"

"I didn't think you gave a shit."

"I-I don't give a shit!...Okay, I give a little bit of a shit. I did live with him for years." Allen pauses, running his black hand through his white hair and sighing harshly. "How long ago was this?"

"I dunno," he shrugs again and bites at a hangnail. "Week ago?" He's kind of agitated that Allen's completely ignored him, but he's kind of happy about it at the same time. Divulging personal shit is something he's obviously not about. So he's not bringing it up again unless Allen asks later. Which he hopefully doesn't.

"A week ago – Kanda, are you fucking _kidding_ me!? I could bloody strangle you sometimes! You didn't think that was important?"

"Your Brit is showing, Beansprout."

"Your _idiot_ is showing, Princess."

"Just shut your goddamn mouth – fucking hell. You know now, so stop yelling about it."

"I can yell all I please, Asshole. It's a free country. God, you're _unbearable_! Why don't you talk to me?" He stands from where he's sitting in the kitchen and paces around.

Now that aggravates him. "I don't _talk_ to you?" Kanda's told this kid more than he's told anyone else – has said things he doesn't know if he'll ever repeat. And he thinks Kanda doesn't talk to him.

"We don't communicate – not well! I never know what you're thinking, or how you're feeling. And what little I know about your past hasn't even come from you, really! We don't talk about the important stuff."

Allen really doesn't understand him, then. "If you think I'm going to tell you every little detail about my life, you might as well prepare yourself for some serious fucking disappointment. Cross calling – I didn't give a shit." That's a lie. Fucker said some pretty important things that Allen didn't _need_ to know. And finding a discreet way to go through his mail was annoying. At least there haven't been any other letters and he hasn't had to talk to Cross a _second_ time.

Allen just looks at him for a long time, maybe so beyond anger that he doesn't even know what to say. Kanda experiences that sometimes, so he just sits and lets him stew. But then his face changes – from angry to…impassive. To blank. And that's when Kanda realizes that a mistake was made. "That's fine," Allen replies, waving him off. "It's over with, I guess."

Allen never used to do this to him, but it's been getting worse lately – maybe from the stress of the NOAH. He's always a little bit overly polite, always hiding behind that, but this is something totally different. This is him putting on the mask and shutting down.

Kanda huffs, flicking his hair out of his face. Fo told him to keep Allen close, so as much as he wants to leave it be, he can't. That's not the only thing though – this is aggravating. When they fight, at least they're getting somewhere, at least there's some kind of emotion – but this shit is not healthy for anyone.

"Beansprout," he calls, resigned. He crosses his arms as Allen looks at him, a pseudo-smile on his lips. It doesn't even look remotely real, and that bitch is the master of fake smiles. Kanda doesn't know what emotion made him switch like that; anger, hurt, jadedness?

"What?"

"Don't do that." As much as it would probably help for him to soften up a little right now, he's not going to. Allen needs to fucking grow up. Though, this is probably a defense mechanism as much as his anger can be.

"Do what?"

This isn't going to work. It isn't. Kanda _knows_ it isn't. And he honestly doesn't want to be bothered with it. But he goes on anyway.

"Shut down. If you wanna fucking talk to me, then talk. I don't have anything better to do anyway."

"It's not a big deal, Kanda," Allen says, laughing lightly. "I was just worked up over Cross. You were right, ya know? If it was important you would have told me."

"You don't fucking believe that. Cut the shit, Allen."

Allen looks at him, paused. If he was at all affected by the use of his actual name, he doesn't show it. "It's fine," he repeats. It is most certainly not fucking fine. No one is fine when they say that.

"Come here and sit down," he growls. Allen's already almost out of the room, but listens. He walks back over to the table and sits. "Listen – I don't know what the fuck you want from me, but you've already heard more shit than anyone else has. If I tell you or don't tell you something, there are reasons. And not just 'I'm spiting you' reasons." Not that that hasn't _ever_ happened. And then he realizes that he's turned into everyone that he hates. Regardless of the reason, he's here refusing Allen information because he thinks it's for the best. He can see why the kid was frustrated now.

"Kanda, I'm not that worried ab-"

"Shut the fuck up! You think I don't _know_ you or something? Shit, we're practically cohabiting." In Marie's apartment, no less. He needs to do something about that at some point. "You are worried about it and…motherfucker…there's no point in being worried. Listen – just…" He pauses, looks at Allen sitting across from him at the table – still annoyingly blank. Well, no, his eyes are different, just slightly. "Don't do that. I'll fucking…talk to you, alright?"

Allen doesn't say anything, but his schooled expression is starting to break.

"That idiot godfather of yours is worried about you. He's keeping tabs on both of us for some reason." Or someone is, if not him. "And that letter that you got in the mail – with that cross…" He looks away, out of the kitchen window. It's starting to get dark. "I don't know what it is, but I've seen it before. Cross knows what it is, I have no doubts. That asshole won't say anything specific though."

Allen's eyebrows draw together, and his lips purse.

Kanda sighs deeply, and it's maybe a little shaky but he disregards that. "And…someone's coming, like I said. Apparently he's everyone's best friend, but I have no idea who they're talking about."

The kid almost looks like he's about to say something, but then he closes his mouth. Then opens it again. "Are you scared?"

"No," he says, and then realizes that that was a conditioned response. He growls lightly and doesn't look Allen in the eye. "Not really…I'm just confused and…apprehensive." He says that last word with distaste. He thinks it's probably obvious.

"…I don't usually see you this anxious," Allen says, voice quiet. He's not sure of how he must look to Beansprout to make him say that, but he doesn't like it. "You've been stressed."

"No more than fucking usual," he rests his cheek on his palm.

"I…" he starts. Then he shakes his head and leans forward a little bit, catching Kanda's eye. "I know that this is how you operate, but I think it would help if you opened up just a…little bit more. I know I'm asking for a lot, but it frustrates me so fucking much when you do that, when you shut me out. It's not fun, is it?"

Kanda takes a moment to let that sink in. "Were you just proving a fucking _point_ to me?!" He yells, leaning forward over the table.

Allen doesn't flinch. "Mostly not – but it proved something either way, didn't it?"

Kanda seethes, but sits back in his chair. Beansprout's still not as emotive as he usually is – saying all of this with a mostly even tone of voice and then small non-verbal cues, but he's better. "…open up is a broad term," he murmurs after a moment.

Allen cocks his head to the side, in a crude mockery of confusion. "Is this a moment where it would hurt to talk about Alma?"

He grits his teeth and tenses. It's always a moment where it fucking sucks to talk about him. "…What about him?" He grinds out.

"There's something I've been wondering about, lately…" Allen turns away from him, and there are remnants of expression on his face – like anguish. "About what happened…originally."

He jumps right into this shit, doesn't he? "Shit. Lots of shit." Allen doesn't respond, or look at him, so he sighs and steels himself. This is not what he wants to talk about, especially right here. "Get up."

"What?" Allen looks up at him, a little surprised. "Why?"

Kanda stands, cocks his head towards the bedroom. "I'm not talking about this shit at a kitchen table."

They walk into the bedroom, and again Kanda leaves off the light. It's not pitch black like it was last night, but the setting sun casts plenty of shadows through the blinds. Calmly, quietly, he sits on the bed, and Allen follows him in much the same way.

"…He was an idiot then, too," Kanda starts, after a good while. "Just as annoying, and fucking creepy. He'd follow me around everywhere, spouting bullshit about friendship and all that crap. We'd break out in fights a lot because he'd get all butt hurt that I didn't go along with his shit." He breathes out a sarcastic laugh. "He was the only one who could hold up against me."

"So pretty much the same," Allen chuckles.

"Pretty much..." Kanda looks up at the ceiling. "I honestly don't remember many specific things - I just have general ideas. Like knowing that Bak was annoying then, too. He was nearly a carbon copy of his fucking dad."

"Dad?"

"One of the doctors, Edgar," Kanda clarifies, waving his hand in dismissal and crossing his legs. "Don't remember much about him either."

"Do you think that's on purpose?"

"Huh?"

"Like..." Beansprout trails off, and Kanda glances over at him. "There are things about my past that I know I've actively tried to block out. Things that my godfather kind of helped with." He pauses. "Maybe...maybe that's why I don't remember anything from before Mana." Another pause, then a soft, sardonic laugh. "Cross always called it 'rehabilitation.'"

"Reha..."

_'Maybe the rehabilitation worked a little too well.' _

It's just a coincidence that Fo said that, right? But that idiot Cross and that idiot Tiedoll did know each other. They even were in some military thousands of years ago, back in the late eighties and early nineties. Probably even later, considering Tiedoll was wearing that uniform when he was taken from Japan in 2000. Probably even now. Cross, that is. The old man's dead.

Assuming that's true, then those letters with the cross on them…

Things are starting to fit together in his head and he isn't sure of how to feel about them.

"The cross on that letter you got in the mail - Tiedoll had a uniform with that on it."

"Wha...what?" Allen looks over at him.

"Yeah. And he and that fucker you consider a guardian were friends, too. Maybe it's not a coincidence."

Allen's quiet for a moment. "Do you think it's...a military?"

"Maybe they're fuckin' drafting you."

"This isn't something to joke about Kanda."

"I'm not joking. Your godfather and my foster father were a part of this organization. Maybe they want you, too."

"But then why wouldn't they have sent you anything?" Allen scratches his head and groans. "Could it be because the NOAH want me? Maybe...I don't know, maybe they're a special forces?"

Kanda thinks back. Thinks way, way back. Whatever organization ran that hellhole he and Alma were trained in...they were after the NOAH, too. And then: "Maybe...those scientists..."

Fo had specifically said 'us,' when they were speaking on the phone yesterday. That obviously implies at least whoever was involved in that project, but it could have been more general. That project, he can't even remember the name of it now, had to have been sponsored by someone. The equipment and staff would have been expensive since both were top-notch.

"Scientists? As in Bak and the others?"

"Yeah," Kanda replies. This is starting to make too much sense. Fucking hell. He was so focused on finding the NOAH that he didn't think to look at anything else. "And...Bak and Komui know each other. So..."

"And you said that Fo mentioned Lenalee knew whoever was coming. What if that someone is connected to this organization? And if Komui and those scientists and Cross...Jesus fucking Christ, Kanda. What is going on?"

"This is fucked," he growls, but the sound is weaker than he'd like. "This is so fucked."

"This...if we're right...and all of these people are a part of this...whatever...and it's after the NOAH..." Allen's voice breaks, but not out of sadness. He's confused beyond all belief, and trying to take in knowledge that threatens what he'd known until now. Kanda knows because he feels the same. "Everyone...everyone's been..."

"Fucking assholes," Kanda puts in, because he doesn't like the thought of everyone around him lying to him for the past decade.

"And Lenalee. Do you think she knows?"

"We're about to find out. Give me your phone."

Allen reaches into his back pocket and pulls it out before handing it to Kanda and getting up to turn the light back on. Yeah, the time for sentimental talk is over.

He unlocks Allen's phone - it's annoying that he's known the kid long enough to have memorized it (1-9-8-6) - and immediately scrolls through his contacts to find Lenalee's number. He taps the screen a tad more harshly than necessary, then brings it up to his ear.

It rings, then rings again, then continues to ring until her voicemail picks it up. That's weird. Lenalee always has her phone on her, and it's evening time so she shouldn't busy with school or shit like that. And she'd never ignore a call from Beansprout. It just wouldn't happen.

"She didn't answer," Kanda growls, tossing it across the bed.

"Careful!" Allen exclaims, dashing to his phone. "What if hit the headboard and broke?"

"You've hit your head on the headboard before and it didn't break, so..."

Allen flushes an alarming shade of red, which clashes with his hair so badly it's laughable. "Kanda..."

"You are not seriously acting like an innocent right now, are you?"

"People don't say things like that."

"We have said way worse shit."

"In bed!" He exclaims with a sigh, plopping onto the bed. He lets out a sob-like sound that has less to do with sadness and more to do with frustration. "What do we do, Kanda? If...if all of this is true, and from the beginning everything was...planned... When I came here with Cross, when you left for Japan and came back with scientists...what if everyone is standing and pointing and laughing at us for being such idiots?!"

"I could just slice all their throats after I'm done training."

"Don't do that. As untruthful as they've been, I know they're trying to help us. They may be our only shot."

"If they're trying to help us so much, why haven't they come out with it yet? We've needed a fucking army behind us for months now."

"Maybe they have been. Just...it's been silent backing, or something..."

"What about when the NOAH kidnapped you fucking _Taken_ style or when Rhode had us on that boat or - or fucking Alma! Why didn't they fucking stop him from...from...!"

Allen wraps his arms around Kanda from behind and rests his head on his shoulder. The weight and warmth is admittedly comforting. "I think they've been trying as much as they can with Alma...you've seen Bak lately."

"Why do you trust them so fucking much? You don't know anything about them. Fuck, this might not even be real. We might be fucking crazy!"

"I don't think we're crazy, Kanda, and neither do you. I trust them because...they're my friends. And my family, to a degree. If you can call Cross anything like that. And Komui's been like family to you for years, I know that much."

"Family doesn't keep shit like this from you."

"Family protects you. As angry as I am, as upset as the idea of this makes me...I think I could grow to forgive them if that was the case."

"So what, have they been humoring us all this time? Been content to sit and watch us run around in circles?"

"Bak told me you refused their help multiple times. They were giving you the space you asked for."

Kanda scoffs, but leans back into Allen's embrace. He could rip something in two right now and it still wouldn't calm him down, but at least this helps him remember how to breathe. For a minute, he meditates. Concentrates on his breathing, categorizes his thoughts. He stays like that, and Allen doesn't say a word.

When he's stable enough to open his eyes he says, "I'm hungry." He kind of is, even though his appetite is shot due to his mood, but he mostly says that because he's sure Allen is. And he wants to get out of this room.

Allen laughs, kissing him on the cheek and saying, "Let's go eat, then. I have no objection."

* * *

><p>When they go to bed that night, there's nothing sexual about it at all. Which is weird, because most everything is sexual for them. Tonight they just lie in the dark and Allen caresses Kanda's knuckles with his dark hand and whispers to him. He whispers back sometimes, but mostly he just listens.<p>

Allen talks about his time with Cross. Maybe he's found that he enjoys talking about his past now, appreciates that there's some kind of outlet. Maybe he just likes to hear himself talk. Either way, Kanda knows that this is something he's been wanting. They've very rarely talked like this - Daisya's death was the last time he did anything of this kind, and Allen talked some last night, but other than that...if they're in bed they're either too tired to do anything but pass out, bicker, or have sex. This is probably the healthiest their relationship's ever been, right in this moment. Maybe that first anniversary could come close, or maybe a few times before the NOAH kidnapped Allen, but this feels...normal. This is something normal adults do in relationships. They don't worry about mob groups, or secret militaries, or fight about absolutely nothing.

When Allen's done with a story about Cross in Mumbai (how did that fucker ever consider himself a caregiver?), Kanda talks for the first time in quite a few minutes.

"You know...you're starting to sound very American, in the way you talk."

Allen laughs softly. "That's because I've been here so long...to be honest, I haven't actually lived in England for a very long time. At least four or five years. I've gone back for a month or two plenty of times, but I've mostly traveled with Cross. I don't think I had my roots anywhere else long enough to pick up on different expressions or pronunciations." He throws his leg over Kanda's and scoots in a little closer. "I don't think my accent's ever going to go away completely, though. Maybe it'll soften and mix with typical American dialect, but I will always be a Brit."

Kanda snorts. "Well won't that be fantastic."

"Hmm?" Allen smirks, pressing their foreheads together. "Why are you so worried about what I'll be like in the future? Commitment doesn't sound like you."

Kanda scoffs at him. "Don't get ahead of yourself Beansprout. Commitment sounds like a ridiculous notion."

"Oh yes, it's crazy," Allen laughs, sarcastic. "I mean, why would people want happy, stable relationships?"

"I wouldn't know," he rolls his eyes, but smiles slightly in the dark.

Allen's phone rings.

Confused, Beansprout leans behind him to grab it from next to his pillow. "It's Lenalee," he murmurs. "Calling back at - oh, it's not as late as I thought. Only eleven." He answers the call and puts it to his ear. "Hey," he greets.

This close, Kanda can kind of hear what she's saying. He pieces together words to make sentences. _"Oh my god, Allen - I am so sorry I missed your call! Are you okay? What's wrong?"  
><em>  
>"Calm down," Beansprout chuckles. "I'm okay. Mostly. I just had a question for you." A very loaded and important question. He really shouldn't be making light of it.<p>

_"Okay, yes, you ask away. But in just a second. Allen, babydoll, I am just - so, I have news. It's not my news really - damn, maybe I should let Lavi tell? No, he won't."_

"Get on with it," Kanda snarls, pulling the phone away from Allen's ear and speaking into the receiver.

_"Oh, Kanda? You're with Allen? At eleven at night? I mean he said the two of you were spending a lot of time together, but I didn't think it was that serious! Are you two, like, seriously dating now, or - no, that's not important right now."_

"You're gonna give yourself a fucking anxiety attack, Jesus. What is wrong with you?"

She does this, sometimes. Generally when she's under some kind of stress and mostly when that stress is in relation to a friend.

_"Okay. So...Lavi and Miranda just broke up."_

"What?" Allen asks, attempting to bring the phone back to his ear. He fails, and the phone ends up between them with their face pressed close. Then Kanda just hits the damn speaker button and leans back.

_"Yeah. It wasn't like a bad breakup or anything like that. Miranda had to go back to Germany though, and I spent half the night talking Lavi out of driving to the airport and hoping over to Europe. Lavi doesn't do this."_ She sounds a little heartbroken. Like, more than she normally would about even a friend's relationship ending. Weird. _"__Lavi doesn't take anything hard. Well, he does sometimes, but mostly he's really good at accepting that people come and go! I don't know what to do. What do people do when their best friends just randomly fly off to other countries?"_ She pauses. They're all quiet. _"No, I can't let him pull a 'Kanda!' He can't leave! What do we do?" _

"Lenalee, calm down," Allen says, sweetly. "He's not halfway to Germany right now, right?"

_"I hope not! I spent three hours with him on the phone." _

If Kanda ever had to spend three straight hours listening to Lavi he'd probably jump off of a building.

"Well that's good. It's a start. He'll be fine, though. It sucks at first, but he'll come to terms with it." Kanda does not look at Allen. "It might take a little while, but he'll be okay."

_"I hope so! He is so not okay right now. He is the opposite of okay. What is the opposite of okay?"_

"Completely fucked up," Kanda offers.

_"He's completely fucked up!"_ She exclaims.

"I'll call him tomorrow and talk to him about it. I probably have helpful input," Beansprout tells her.

She sighs, relieved. _"Okay, good. You know how I get worried about him...about all of you."  
><em>  
>"Yes, we do fucking know."<p>

_"Well..."_ she responds. She takes a deep breath, presumably to calm herself, and then says, _"Now what was your question?" _

Kanda takes this one head-on. "What do you know about Komui's involvement with Bak?"

_"Bak? Um, they're friends. They've worked together on a couple of things."_ Lenalee is now talking like a normal human being and he can stand her again. She switches off and on as quickly as Allen. _"Not too much beyond that. They're...now that I think about it, they're really secretive about it. Like, vague and ambiguous when I ask questions, ya know?"_

Oh yes he does know.

"_Why_?"

"So," Allen starts. "Kanda and I have this theory..."

"_Theory_?"

"Hypothesis," Kanda interjects.

"Now is not the time for Mr. Scientist, okay? We have a hypothesis, then. Well, I won't go into it too much right now, but basically we think all the shit in our lives is connected. Everything. And apparently someone's coming that we need to prepare for? Well, you and Kanda, anyway; we think he's related to whatever's going on as well."

_"Someone I know?"_

"Apparently," Kanda says, aggravated. "Though no one will tell me who. And all I'm hearing lately is just fucking 'Big Brother' this, 'Big Brother' that. It's annoying."

There is a loud sound, like a phone being dropped. Then another loud sound, like a human scrambling to their knees to snatch it back up. _"Big...Brother...?"_ They hear her say, rather distantly. More clambering. And then, clearer, _"You said Big Brother?" _

"Yes," Kanda says, growing angrier. "You know who this fucker is? Because apparently everyone else does."

"_Everyone_?" Her voice is small, and cracks. _"No. No, no - um. No, I don't know. Um, I have to go. Fuck."_ Her voice breaks. _"Oh my god." _

The phone clicks to tell them the call was disconnected.

For a moment, Allen and Kanda just stare at it dumbly.

"What the_ actual _fucking fuck!" Kanda exclaims, leaping out of the bed. "Get fucking dressed, Allen."

"What?" He asks, breathless. "What is going on?"

"Perfect _goddamn_ question!" He pulls on a sweater. "Drive us to Lenalee's - she's gonna give us an answer."

* * *

><p><strong>Yooooo. <strong>

**I'm curious to know if anyone's guessed who Big Brother is yet? Ah, well - it's officially revealed next chapter. Peace out. **

**Also I have a tumblr for DGM and shit now(apoppyflowersinnocence). You can hmu if you want. **


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